Trapped In The Darkness - part 1
by ohmycroft
Summary: During the investigation of another case, Sherlock and John meet a mysterious girl that wants to help. Soon, Sherlock experiences feelings he had never felt before - love, jealousy, passion. How will it effect him? Is the great Sherlock Holmes just another human man after all?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock and John left the bank. They were heading to Van Coon's flat. A woman was walking quickly in front of them. When she got closer to them both she looked at her phone. Sherlock didn't bother to move, as the lady bumped his shoulder, apologiges ad hurried away. Just a few second later, she went back to them both, who were waiting for a taxi to show up, and called: "Mr. Holmes, I believe you dropped this."

She was holding John's phone, smiling as if she knew something they don't. Sherlock immediately realize how did she manage to snatch John's phone, yet he couldn't understand who she was.

"Who are you?" asked John, surprised. Unlike Sherlock, he did not manage to understand how she got to his phone.

"That's not a very good question, isn't it?" She said, obviously provoking Sherlock.

"Excuse me?" Asked John, as he glanced over to Sherlock, who was just staring at her with his eyes surveying her, trying to learn as much as possible on her.

"Well, for a couple who answers questions for living, you don't ask the proper questions."

A taxi went by, but Sherlock didn't want to go to Van Coon's place now. All he could think of is who's that mysterious girl who's under the impression she's better than them.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, half asking half testing her to see what she will say about his question.

She sighed. "Not the best option, but that'll do. And as a matter of fact, I want to help."

Sherlock smiled a smile full of contempt. He looked up, as if he's to laugh, and then looked at her again, still half smiling. All of the mystery the girl seemed to have now disappeared, and all the detective saw was an idiot girl who thinks she's smart.

"_You_ want to help _us_."

"Ah, Nr. Holmes, being that judgmental is so beneath you." She said. "I need a volunteer – Dr. John, you'll do. You're a military doctor, served in either Afghanistan or Iraq. You used to limp, but it was psychosomatic, obviously, and I suppose Mr. Holmes here had thought of a way to make you stop. You had strawberry jelly this morning, and your favourite color is blue."

Sherlock wasn't impressed, but he was curious. Curious because the first part of her words was exactly what he said to John when they first met. He knew she did it on purpose, yet somehow he also knew that she had never heard him saying it in any way.

"Wha – How could you possibly know that?!" John was shocked, clearly over the last statement. He also seemed a bit annoyed that there's someone besides his flat mate that cam see so easily through him.

"Mr. Holmes's scarf is dark blue." She said with an amused smile. Sherlock's eyebrows lifted in surprise, as John looked confused, as if he'd never thought of the reason why he likes the colour.

"Well, I've heard enough." Sherlock said impatiently. He went to the road and lifted his hand, calling the taxi that was getting near. Only it did not stop for him, and neither did the next two. Sherlock took his arm down and looked up angrily, and as another taxi came by he lifted his hand again and shouted "taxi!", yet once more it ignored him. Just as it reached them without stopping, the lady whistled loudly. The taxi immediately slowed down and stopped just a few paces away. Both men looked at her, clearly surprised, as she went to the cab and entered it, leaving the door open.

"Are you coming, Mr. Holmes?" she called them. John was a bit offended that she only referred to Sherlock, yet he knew he's the one to make the call whether to get in the cab or not. The detective hesitated for a moment, and then walked to the cab. The doctor followed him, and entered it before him. Sherlock entered after him, shutting the door closed and gave the cabbie the address.

"I'm not impressed. Just so you know." Sherlock said, clearly trying to make her change her mind.

"I don't need you to be impressed, I need you to be interested." Both Sherlock and John noticed the way she used the word "need". Yet only Sherlock noticed the way she said the word "impressed" in contempt, and the way she said the word "interested" in a more mysterious tone, as if she desired to make him that way. And of course he was interested.

After a few moments of an awkward silence, John asked: "So how old are you?"

"Twenty ni-"

"Thirty two." interrupted Sherlock.

Both looked at him surprised.

"How do you –"

"Women always lie about their age."

John looked at her, but she just shrugged, as if it's obvious he's right.

"So where are we heading?" she asked without looked at either of them.

"We are obviously looking at suicide" said Dimmock.

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." Agreed John.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" asked Dimmock, clearly confused.  
"The wound was on the right side of his head." Explained Sherlock

"And?" asked Dimmock once more, still confused.  
"Van Coon was left-handed." Said the detective, as if it's obvious.

He pretended to try and shoot himself in his right side of the head with her left hand.  
"Requires quite a bit of contortion."  
"Left-handed?" Dimmock didn't see how he got to that conclusion.  
"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." He said in a sarcastically surprised tone.  
He pointed to the table beside the sofa.  
"Coffee table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left, pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. Do you want me to go on?" Sherlock explained, while John tried to understand how the hell did Sherlock notice that, and the mystery woman just looked at the detective with a lack of surprise.  
"No, I think you've covered it." Said John tiredly.  
Sherlock said.""Oh, I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list.

He opened his mouth to continue, but the woman suddenly started talking.

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's very unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in his right side of the head."

"Who is she?" asked Dimmock, clearly annoyed that Sherlock is not the only one who had noticed all those facts. Before any of the men could answer, she finally introduced herself.

"I'm Dana. Dana Scott. I'm Mr. Holmes's intern… Sort of."

Both Sherlock and John were surprised by this introduction. They hadn't thought she'll tell her name so lightly, as if they're friends, or as if she really is his intern. Sherlock thought for a second about hiring an intern, while John thought that if she's an intern, what does that make him?

"And what, is he paying to help him? Is this some kind of a part-time job?" Dimmock asked, clearly misunderstanding why anyone would choose to willingly be around Sherlock.

"Not exactly. I'm paid with information. I want to learn the he thinks, try to see the things he sees, notice the things he notices. The world has one consulting detective – I would like to be the second one."

They were all surprised by her explanation, Sherlock the most. He wasn't sure if he wanted someone else to be a consulting detective as well, but he did like the idea of having an intern. He had finally found someone who observes, and not just _sees_.

John had left to a job interview, so Dana and Sherlock were left alone in the flat. They were both looking at the photographs, trying to learn something more from them. Sherlock sat, as usual, straight on the chair, with his hands tight together under his chin, as if he's praying. Dana's fingers integrated, as if she's praying as well, and her head rested on them. They were both silent and still. John walked in and dropped his coat on a chair.

"I said, can you pass me a pen?" said Sherlock, as if it was a part of a previous conversation.

John looked around, as if there was someone else in the room he could have been talking to. Dana was still silent, so he assumed he didn't talk to her.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Why – there's a pen right next to her!" John said and pointed at the pen beside Dana.

"He did ask you, you know." she said without looking at him, like Sherlock.

John looked at her with his eyebrows lifted, partly annoyed by her comment. He picked up a pen and threw it to Sherlock without looking at him. He caught it without turning his head from the photos.

"Here, have a look." He called John.

John walked over to the table and looked at the web page on the open computer. The lead article on the 'Online News' page is headlined, "Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police". Next to it is a photograph of a bald man, and the article reads: An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in...

"The intruder who can walk through walls." quoted John.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon."

John straightened up and looked at his flat mate.

"God. You think..."  
"He's killed another one." said Sherlock heavily.

There was a beep from an unknown phone.

"Could you pass me my phone please, Dr. Watson?" she said.

John went over to where her phone was. She got a text message. John read it.

_When are you coming over? Is everything OK? MH_

John was shocked. He picked up the phone and walked towards them both. Dana was still staring quietly at the photos, so he turned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock…" he said and showed him the message.

Sherlock was angry and confused, but most of all disappointed. He now knew where did she knew him from, and who taught her to think like that. He thought she actually wants to be his intern, when all she was is just another woman Mycroft sent to sniff around. He instantly got up, took a couple of steps towards her, and stood in front of her so she can't see the photographs. Just then she noticed what's going on, and as soon as she did Sherlock pushed his arm on her neck and pushed her head back, so she won't choke but also won't breathe freely. He didn't estimate her strength correctly, so she _was _choking. Yet she didn't move or resist, just looked at him with widened eyes.

"Were you sent to spy on me?" he put her phone in front of her. As she didn't answer, he pushed his hand harder on her neck and raised his voice.

"Did Mycroft send you to spy on me?!"

She gasped and tried to breathe.

"No!" she whispered, since she didn't have enough air to speak louder.

"What are you doing here then? What's your connection to him?!" he pushed his hands even harder, and her eyes widened even more, and she continued to gasp, trying not to choke.

"Sherlock..." John tried to calm him. He really thought he might choke her to death if he won't get the answer he wants.

"I'm his girlfriend!" she answered, fighting to pronounce each word.

Sherlock straightened up quickly then, and removed his arm from her neck. She bent down and coughed. His face could not reveal his feeling, but John's face easily could. He was clearly surprised, even shocked. Neither expected that answer.

"Oh. Quite an age difference." said Sherlock coldly.

"Perhaps, but our meeting was quite… unusual, you may say." she said, hoarse, and coughed.

Her phone rang.

"I should get that. He gets worried too quickly."

John handed her the phone, still shocked. He honestly didn't see Mycroft as the person to have a girlfriend… Well, like her.

"Hello?" she answered him quietly. Mycroft was, as she suspected, worried, so he talked loudly. Loudly enough for Sherlock and John to hear him.

"_Where are you? Is everything ok? You didn't answer my message_."

"I know, I'm a bit busy over here. Can we continue this later?" she said, clearing her throat to not sound as hoarse as she is.

"_Are you cold? Your voice sounds different_."

"No, I'm perfectly fine."

"_It's late. I'm coming to pick you up_."

"I have feet of my own you know."

"_I don't care. Give me the address._"

"There's no point in trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?"

"_No. Now what's the address_?"

She paused for a moment.

"_Dana? Are you there? What's the address_?"

"221b Baker Street." She said quietly.

He hung up.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breathe.

"What are the odds he would0 just not come?" she asked worriedly, her eyes still closed.

"Zero." Answered Sherlock, since it was clear her question was meant to him.

"Oh god."

She got up and smoothed her clothes. Then she stood in front of the mirror and fixed her hair. She stretched out to take a look at her neck. She turned it to different angles to make sure there isn't any bruise on it. She looked at them both.

"Well, if he's mad as I think he is, and he _is_, then he probably took a cab as soon as he hung up. He had paid extra just make the cabbie go as fast as he can. There isn't much traffic now. So unfortunately, I have to leave now. Please let me know if you found something out, and tell me what time are we leaving tomorrow."

She walked over to the door, and just as she starting walking someone starting banging loudly on the door. She opened it and Mycroft stormed in. He looked at Sherlock, then at John, then at Sherlock again. He turned to her sharply.

"You said you're going to work for someone now. To be his _intern_."

"Well, I am." she said calmly.

"To my brother?!" he yelled and gestured him with his left hand, "And you didn't think of telling me?!"

"Well, I don't see what it has to with you. It's my job."

"And it's _my_ brother! I know him better than you! You could have gotten hurt!"

"Mycroft…" Sherlock tried to calm him.

"Don't you dare talk now." He turned to him and stood in front of him. "How could you hire her? She's no help to you!"

"_Excuse me?!_" she shouted at him with a surprise and hurt tone. "I happen to be quite clever, just so you know. I'm not 'just a lady', and if that's what you think of me I may not be 'just your girlfriend' anymore."

"No, Dana, I didn't mean it that way. Hey…" he walked to her and held both her hands in his.

She pulled her hands to her angrily.

"This is _my_ life, and _I _will be the one to choose who I will work for. And I choose Mr. Holmes. Is that clear?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but Sherlock interrupted.

"'Mr. Holmes'?" he asked in a surprised tone and pulled his eyebrows up.

"Well, you didn't expect me to call you Sherlock, didn't you? You're my employer, after all." She answered and looked at him over Mycroft's hand.

"There's no point in trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?" he said, defeated.

"No, there isn't." she half-smiled. She liked the way he quoted her.

"After you." he gestured to the door, and she went out. He took one step towards the door, then hesitated a moment. He turned around and went to Sherlock. He stood in front of him, far too close in Sherlock's opinion.

"If you make _one_ move on her…" and he left.

Mycroft opened the door for her. She smiled and walked inside the house. He entered after her and shut the wooden door behind him. She had always liked his flat. The wooden furniture, the lovely fireplace and the large television in front of the couch. She turned to him and kissed him lightly. They both smiled.

"You're not mad I'm your brother's intern, right?"

"You could just call him Sherlock, you know."

"I can't. He's my employer, and I should respect him by calling him by his last name."

"Respect him…" he mumbled and looked away.

"Yes, respect him. Because you got to admit – no matter how much you two hate each other, he is _brilliant._"

"I'm taking you there tomorrow."

"No, you are not." She laughed humourlessly and walked away from him, her back turned to him. He turned around to look at her, yet didn't ask her to turn around.

"Yes, I am. This wasn't a suggestion, it was a fact. If you want to work for him, my only condition it that I will take you over there and back here every day."

He waited for a few moments. Then she turned sharply to him.

"I think I know what all of this is about. You're mad because I didn't ask you to be my employer, aren't you?" she walked closer to him. He just looked at her, not answering. She didn't need an answer.

"Look, this isn't about you. If you would have done what Sherlock does, then of course I'd be your intern." He wasn't convinced. She now stood very close to him.

"Besides," she said quietly, "I couldn't possibly be your intern _and_ your girlfriend. It would be… _inappropriate._" She kissed him, and he was now convinced. He kissed her hardly back, and she laughed. He was kissing her so hard she had to walk backwards so she wouldn't fall. They were kissing passionately, and when she reached the couch, they both fell on it, both laughing, still kissing.

A knock on the door. John went over to the door and opened it, and Sherlock got up from his chair.

"I did not invite him." Dana said as she entered. Right behind her was Mycroft, who followed her like a body-guard.

"Me neither." said Sherlock.

"Well, aren't you all sweet." said Mycroft sarcastically.

"I got your text. You said you've figured it out." she said, ignoring him.

"We have." Sherlock said without explaining.

"Well?"

He just looked at her without saying a word. After a few moments she understood what he means.

"Goodbye, darling, I'll see you again tonight." she said to Mycroft, her eyes not moving from Sherlock's. When she saw Mycroft isn't going anywhere, she went to him and kissed him shortly.

"Go now. I'll be fine."

"Give me a call when you want to go home." he said and still didn't move.

"You have to go in order to pick me up later, you know."

"All right, I'm going. Take care."

She smiled a clearly fake smile, as she opened the door for him. After she closed it behind him, her face turned serious again.

"So what is it?"

"It's an ancient number system. Hangzhou." said Sherlock.

"The numbers in the bank were fifteen and one." continued John, more enthusiastically.

"It's a code, based upon a book. Yet we don't know which one. The code belongs to a Chinese criminal organization, more of a cult, the Black Lotus. We got that information from a woman called Soo Ling Yao, who used to work for it with her brother, but he was corrupted by one of its leaders."

"General Shan." added John.

"Yes. The numbers are references to books. To specific pages and specific words in those pages, to be correct."

"Right. So fifteen and one. That means…" she tried to follow.

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."

"Okay, so what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned." said Sherlock.  
Dana looked round despairingly at the many crates in the room, each either labeled "Van Coon" or "Lukis".  
"Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?" she said desperately.

John walked in the room, after changing to clean clothes. Dana and Sherlock were sitting there, still looking at books.

"I need some air. We're going out tonight." said Sherlock.

"Where are we going?" Dana said without raising her look from the book she was holding. Both men looked at her. They did not include her in their plans. Sherlock handed John a piece of paper. John took it and looked at the piece of paper, which is the strip of poster that Sherlock tore off the wall during the search for the yellow paint. The poster advertised the Yellow Dragon Circus and gives the telephone number of the Box Office.

"In London for one night only."

John looked at him with disbelief, and then looked at Dana, who half smiled, amused by John reaction.

"You can call Mycroft now." Sherlock said coldly. They were back in the flat again, back from the 'circus'.

"No, I think I'll stick around a little longer. It's not like we've solved it." She initially used the word 'we', to highlight the fact she's a part of their 'team'.

"Anyone fancies something to eat?" she asked, looking at John. He, of course, was starving. Being around Sherlock had made him lose a lot of weigh, since he was barely ever eating. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was almost empty apart from a couple of bottles, a can, and what might well be an eyeball. He sighed and closed the fridge.

Instead of simply waiting for John to find something to eat, she went over to where Sherlock was sitting.

"So each pair of numbers is a word."

"Exactly." said Sherlock tightly.

"And the first two words are 'nine' and 'mill'."

Sherlock's head lifted up slowly.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, two words have already been translated, here. Did you not see this before?"  
She pointed at the picture down on the desk. Sherlock took the photo from her and stared at it.

"John."  
"Mmm?"  
He looked round from the kitchen table.  
"John, look at this." said Sherlock as he stood up.  
He took the photo out of the evidence bag as John came out of the kitchen.  
""Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!  
Written in fine pen, a word has been written across each of the first two sets of symbols on the photograph. Sherlock read them out.  
""'NINE' 'MILL'.  
"Does that mean 'millions'?" John said and squinted at the photo.  
"Nine million quid. For what?" the detective said thoughtfully.  
He turned and went over to where he dumped his coat and scarf.  
""We need to know the end of this sentence.  
"Where are you going?" Dana asked.  
"To the museum, to the restoration room." He answered as he wore his scarf.  
He grimaced in exasperation at himself.  
""Oh, we must have been staring right at it!  
"At-at what?" John still didn't understand.  
"The book, John. The book – the key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this! While we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."  
And after saying that, he hurried out.

John woke up. His head was hurt. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was at some kind of a tunnel. His wrists hurt him. He tried to pull them to him, but he couldn't. He sat on some sort of chair, and his hands were tied behind his back. Dana was sitting next to him, saying something quietly through a gag in her mouth. She looked scared, but not as terrified as he expected her to be. The opera singer from the circus was there. They both looked at her. John looked at her with confusion, but Dana's eyes widened. Not with fear, but with understanding. She saw something John didn't, and he wondered what it is.

"'A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket.' She paused for a moment. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

John looked at her, startled.

"I… I'm not Sherlock Holmes."

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it." she said and smiled humourlessly. John looked at Dana helplessly. She looked forward, staring at the air, and looked like she's either about to laugh or to cry. He wasn't sure if he should be offended she thought it is amusing that he was mistaken to be Sherlock. She continues to argue with John about why they 'know' he's Sherlock, but Dana didn't listen. She just stared. She found the situation exciting, interesting. But then she thought of Mycroft. What would he do if anything bad happens to her? Will he be sad? Angry? One thing she knew for sure – He'll blame Sherlock for it, and the last thing she wanted was to cause more fights between the two. She wondered if he'll cry over her. But then she heard a gun and suddenly became aware of what's going on again.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" Shan said as she pointed a pistol to his head. He cringed away from it, holding in a panic breathe. Shan grinned. Dana understood now why Sherlock had described her in such an... Intimidating way. Shan lifted her other hand and cocked the pistol. John whispered "don't, don't", and he struggles against his bonds. Dana then became truly scared. She really did fear for his life. John breathed out heavily as her finger tightened on the trigger. John stared into the barrel of the gun, his face full of terror as she pulled the trigger all the way. The gun clicked. John grunted in shock, and Shan smiled smugly.

It tells you that they're not really trying.""  
John breathed heavily, trying to get control of himself. Dana let out the air she was holding in relief.

"Not blank bullets now."

That sentence annoyed Dana for some reason. They weren't blank bullets before - that gun was _empty_.

"Okay." John said breathily.

"If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive."

She looked at him sternly.

"Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." she said and turned away.

She looked at her men who stood there and simply looked intimidating so far. He pulled the cover off a large object to reveal the crossbow which was used at the circus. An arrow was already loaded in it. John stared at it and sighed deeply. Shan turned back to him.

"Everything in the West has its price. And the price for _her_ life..."

John turns and stared at Dana.

"...information."

The two men walked over and picked up Dana's chair. Her eyes widened, this time with fear, and she tried to free her hands.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." said John anguished, under his breath.

The men set the chair down on the other side of the crossbow, putting Sarah facing the arrow tip and directly in line with it. She stared at it, breathing heavily and tugging in vain at the ropes tying her to the chair. Shan glared down at John.

"Where's the hairpin?"

"What?" he said, tugging at his own bonds in spite of the pistol aimed at him.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching."  
"Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."  
"I need a volunteer from the audience!" she said loudly.  
"No, please. _Please_." John said desperately, as if she'll listen to him.  
"Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely." Shan said and walked towards Dana. Dana tried to say something through her gag, tugging desperately at her ropes. Shan smiled, took out a knife and reached up to the sandbag suspended over a pulley hanging from the ceiling. She stabbed the knife into the bag and sand began to pour out. Dana continued to struggle at her bonds as John sighed out an appalled breath and stared up at the bag in horror. Shan smiled and looked around at her audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act."

"Please!"

Shan walked over to Dana and placed a black origami lotus flower on her lap.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.

"_I'm not Sherlock Holmes_!" he said frantically once more.

"I don't believe you." Shan said once more.

"You should, you know." said a familiar voice.

Shan spinned around as a familiar silhouette appeared at the far end of the tunnel.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Sherlock said.

Shan raised her pistol, cocked it and aims it towards him. He immediately dodged to the side of the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. One of Shan's thugs started to hurry towards the end of the tunnel.

"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" said Sherlock's from the darkness, as John sighed out a half-relieved, half-exasperated breath.

"Late?" said John tetchily. Dana frowned at him and gave him an angry look of 'Really? Are you really joking about this now?'. John was surprised by her anger. Being angry requires a certain amount of calmness, which he did not understand how she had.

Only she wasn't calm. She wasn't calm at all. Her mind was sharp, yes, but her heart was racing. She had only feared like this once before in her life, and it wasn't anything she liked to think of.

Everything happened quickly then. Sherlock tried to untie her bonds several times, and got strangled several times. The men fought, but all Dana could see in the sand flowing out of the bag, every second bringing her death closer and closer. John tried to get up and walk, tied to his chair, but her fell down. Just a second before the arrow was released he managed to push the crossbow with his leg. The arrow was shot and it hit the man who was fighting Sherlock. The man fell down and Sherlock straightened up and grunted. They heard distant running footsteps, and Sherlock looked around and searched for their source, but distracted by Dana's breathings. She wasn't sobbing, not even crying, but she was breathing heavily. She looked down to the floor and simply breathed. Sherlock dropped to his knees beside her.

"It's alright." he said soothingly.

He untied her gag and took it from her mouth.

"You're gonna be alright. It's over now. It's over." he said softly and stroked his hands comfortingly down her arms. Then he bent over and untied her bonds.

The three entered the flat. Sherlock first, and Dana next, with John holding her arm and half-leading half-pushing her in the flat. She felt dizzy after she got up from the chair in the tunnel, and John suspected she may have got a concussion. She refused to get checked, though, but she asked him to help her walk straight. John led her to the couch, where she sat down heavily.

"Where's my phone? It's late now. Mycroft must be worried."

John quickly got her phone and handed it over to her.

"Thanks." She said quietly, almost whispering.

"Great. Nine missed calls."

She dialed a number quickly and waited for an answer. It took him less than 3 seconds to answer. And again, he spoke loudly because he was worried. Dana thought it was nice that he worried about her all the time. Sherlock found it annoying.

_"Dana? Are you alright? It's late already, and you haven't answered my calls._"

"I'm fine. Sorry I haven't answered, I was out and didn't take my phone with me."

"_Come home now. Please. It's late and you know I get worried easily. If you don't want me to come and take you it's fine, but just come."_

"Actually, I do need you to come and rent me a cab. I think I lost my wallet."

_"What? How did you lose your wallet? Did my brother take it?"_

"It has nothing to do with Mr. Holmes. You see, Chinese kidnappers usually don't make sure you have all your personal belongings on you when they come."

"_Chi-Chinese kidnappers?!"_ he said, furious. After a moment he said, clearly holding his anger back: "_I'm on my way."_

Mycroft really was furious. He hated when Dana got in trouble. She had managed to stay clear of it for a very long while lately, but now she got into in again. He knew he couldn't blame her – she was always attracted to this sort of things. But he did know who to blame. If she hadn't joined Sherlock none of this would have happened. She would have been _safe_.

She hung up the call.

"Is it always like that?" she asked and cleaned her throat.

"What is?" John asked softly.

"Being around Mr. Holmes. Is it always so… _Exciting_?"

He smiles humourlessly.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Good." she said and nodded without looking at him.

"Good?!" John was surprised. He expected her to be scared, confused. He thought she'll resign from her internship as soon as they're home, but she said '_good_'.

Someone knocked on the door. John went to open it, and Mycroft stormed in. Ignoring both John and his brother, he went straight to Dana. He kneed in front of her and held her by the arms with both hands.

"Are you ok? Did you get hurt? I swear, if anyone had harmed you in any way I'll…"

"I'm fine, Mycroft. Everything's fine. Calm down."

"Calm down?!" he said angrily and got up. "How do you expect me to calm down, when I just find out my girlfriend was kidnapped because she chose to work for the wrong man!"

"This is not his fault."

"Isn't-Isn't his fault?! So you just happened to be kidnapped two days after you started working for him?!"

She didn't answer.

"Speaking of which, say goodbye, because you are not going to keep working for him."

"You're overreacting."

"_Overreacting_?! You were _kidnapped_, Dana!"

She got up and faced him.

"Look, I know you're trying to keep me safe, but I'm _fine_! Besides, it's not like I'm asking for your permission to be his intern."

"You did so well lately. Didn't get involved in anything." he lowered his voice, speaking more softly now.

"And I _miss it_, Mycroft. I miss it. I know that of all people I should be the last to like this, but I do. You know I do. And working for your brother is a great opportunity for me, and I'm not going to miss it just because you're worried about me. I'm not a child. I can take care of myself."

Sherlock and John both looked at them. John had a strange feeling. She was too similar to someone he already knew – to himself. She, for some reason, had to make herself keep out of trouble, and she missed it. And now, when she got a chance to work with Sherlock, she can finally get in it again. Feel the fear, and excitement. Just like he had missed the war, she missed what-ever trouble she was in. And they were both strangely loyal to Sherlock. She first met him a day ago, and she won't let Mycroft say one bad thing about him. He didn't seem to find the reason for it. Is it admiration? Appreciation? Or is she just trying to upset Mycroft?

"Let's go home. We'll continue this argument there." he said, defeated.

"There is no argument, and there's nothing to continue. I'm Mr. Holmes's intern, and you better understand that, because it's not going to change."

Without waiting for an answer, she walked to the door. She looked back and half-smiled to John. He was confused by this gesture, and the corners of his mouth formed an awkward smile. She chuckled and walked out. Mycroft rolled his eyes and followed her. This surprised Sherlock – he had known his brother his entire life, and was always a control-freak. He always had to be the one who's pulling the strings, who's making the decisions. There could be only two reasons for why he had let her make all of the decisions – he is either madly in love with her, or there is a deeper, more important reason, why he lets her choose. And Sherlock knew his brother isn't capable of such deep love.

"What do you think it is?" Sherlock asked, his eyes still on the door, now closed.

"What are you talking about?" John obviously didn't understand what he is talking about.

"What is it about her that makes my brother so… _Weak_?"

"Well, maybe he's in love."

Sherlock didn't answer. He just stood there and looked at the door.

John walked down Baker Street. He was heading home now. Just when he was in front of the door, a taxi pulled over in front of it.

"Dr. Watson!"

He turned around. It was obviously Dana, coming to see if there are any cases she can help with. She smiled and walked towards him. He half-smiled to her. He was surprised by the warmness of her smile.

"Should we go inside?" she asked.

"After you." he opened the door for her. Her smile came up again and she walked inside. John walked in after her and closed the door behind him.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"Well, I am. I had a great night, you see. Haven't slept so well in ages."

He was not expecting this answer. He himself slept awfully - his head still hurt him. He opened his mouth to answer her, but then they heard two gunshots ring out, and they ran upstairs to the flat. John opened the door and put both his hands on his ears, since another shot was fired. It was Sherlock who was firing those shots. He was shooting a smiley face sprayed with yellow paint on the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Bored." Sherlock said sulkily.

"What?" John squinted at him is disbelief.

"Bored!" he said, more loudly this time, and sprang off the chair he was sitting on. John immediately covered his ears.

"No…"

Sherlock switched the gun to his right hand and shot the face twice.

"Bored! Bored!" he said once more, this time angrily.

Dana went to him and took the pistol out of his hand. He walked towards the sofa. He half-crashed half-lied on it.

"Don't know what's got into criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." He said sulkily.

"So you take it out on the wall."

"Ah, the wall had is coming." he said and closed his eyes. John looked at him. He couldn't understand how he could be _that_ bored. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Both men jumped and looked at Dana, who was holding the pistol aimed to the face on the wall. She hit it between the eyes. John looked at her with shock.

"What do you think you're doing?!" John said and he went to her and grabbed the pistol of her hand.

"I'm his intern. And as his intern, I'm supposed to learn from him. So I did."

John looked at her with disbelief. Sherlock then started chuckling, and Dana quickly joined him. The chuckling soon became laughter, and the two laughed – at John's look, at her learning habits. John tried to get in their head – to understand how they see this situation funny. Maybe, he thought, she's not like him as he thought.

"Anything to eat? I'm starving." John said and went to the fridge. He opened it, and immediately closed it.

"Oh f…"

He opened it again and looked inside. There was a head inside.

"There's a head. A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks." Dana called to him. She was smiling a bit.

"No, there's a head in the fridge. A _head_, Sherlock."

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"Why do you-"

"Don't ask. If you want to eat something today, don't ask. Believe me. It'll ruin your appetite." she warned him.

John rolled his eyes.

"Is there anything to do here? At all?" she asked Sherlock.

"Nothing. Everything it peaceful, and quiet, and calm. Isn't that awful?"

"As awful as it is, it's actually good. That means I'll have more time getting ready for tonight."

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"What's happening tonight?" asked John.

"An old friend of Mycroft is getting married tonight, and I haven't even picked a dress, or shoes, or anything at all…"

Sherlock groaned and closed his eyes again. He was hoping for something more interesting.

"Dr. Waston, as unprofessional as it is – are you busy today? Because I really need someone to come with me and help me find a dress, and Mycroft is busy at work. He barely got the night off. And I can't possibly go shopping alone. Besides, it's not like you have something better to do."

Dana went out of the dressing room for the tenth time. John and Sherlock were sitting in front of it. John tried to give an honest opinion about each of the dresses, while Sherlock just stared at the other girls in the store. He was deducing them, obviously. He couldn't just sit there and let his brain rest.

"So, how do I look?" she asked once more.

Truth to be told, John thought, she was beautiful. Particularly in this dress. It was tight in the upper part of her body, and was more loose from her thighs.

"This one. Definitely this one."

"Dr. Watson, you said the same thing about the previous dress. And the one before it."

"No, this one is definitely the prettiest." John hoped this would help her finally pick a dress so they can leave. Dana smoothed her dress and looked at herself in the mirror.

"What do you think, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, still looking at her reflection. He looked at her briefly and then looked away again.

"This one doesn't fatten your hips like the blue one did."

"Sherlock…" John castigated him. He thought she might be offended by this supposedly-compliment.

"That's what I thought. Glad to see I'm not the only one who noticed that." she looked at her reflection with satisfaction. "I think I'll go for this one."

"Oh, that's great. So you go change and I'll put all those dresses back." John said, relieved that they can finally leave. He quickly picked up all the dresses and left. Dana went in to change.

"Mr. Holmes, can you unzip me, please? I'm afraid I can't reach it."

He reluctantly got up and went in to her changing cell. He put his left hand on her back and she shivered.

"Anything wrong?"

"Your hands are cold."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

He took the zipper with his right hand and pulled it down. He did it slowly, for some reason.

"Done."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

He stood there, still looking at her back.

"Now, do you mind stepping outside so I can change?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

He walked stiffly out. John was surprised to see him coming out of there. He gave Sherlock a confused look.

"She asked me to unzip her."

"That's what I thought."

She got out, dressed up, with the dress in her hand.

"Done. Now we just need to pay for it. Don't dory, Dr. Watson, Mycroft gave me his wallet. You don't have to pay a pound on it."

"Oh, good."

They paid for the dress, far too much in John's opinion, and they separated – Dana went to Mycroft's office to return him his wallet, and the men went to the apartment. Just as John closed the door behind him, he received a text:

_In case you didn't understand yet, this is me officially inviting you to the wedding. Wear something nice. DS_

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a suit?"

Sherlock and John stood in the middle of the crowd, who were all happily talking, some occasionally hugged each other. John was wearing a nice black suit, and Sherlock wore his long black coat, his blue scarf, and his regular pants. John looked at him with disbelief.

"I thought you said you have a suit."

"I did."

"Then why…" he sighed and didn't bother to continue the sentence. They looked to the door and saw familiar faces walk inside. They went towards them. Mycroft wore a dark-gray suit and a red tie, which matched Dana's dress perfectly. It was very obvious she was the one to pick it out for him. Sherlock scanned her. She was wearing that red dress from the store, but now it looked much more beautiful. Alongside with her half-curly brown hair, her bright blue eyes, her diamond earrings and her silver heels, she was truly breathe-taking. And it disturbed Sherlock, for some reason, he thought that way. He frowned.

"Anything wrong, Mr. Holmes?" she asked. Just then he had noticed he was staring at her.

"No. Nothing at all."

"Good. So if you don't mind, we'll go to congratulate the happy couple, and we'll catch up with you later." she took a few steps, and then looked back to Sherlock. "Couldn't you at least change your clothes?" without waiting for an answer, they walked away. Sherlock looked at Mycroft. He seemed strangely happy. Every time he smiled, it was after Dana smiled. He really did love her, and it felt strange for Sherlock to admit it.

This part of the night passed quickly for Sherlock, for he hadn't paid any attention to what was happening around him at all. Instead, he deduced every single person in the room. He found pet-owners, cheaters, ones who are jealous of the bride, and ones who are jealous of the groom. He paid extra attention to the women. He thought it would be nice if John left the night with a date that is not too dumb. He found twenty women who came alone. Ten of them hoped to go home with someone. Three of them seemed intelligent. One of them was good-looking.

"Go for the girl with the purple dress that's currently talking to woman dressed in pink." he said quietly to John.

"What?"

"If you want to end the night with a girl, go for that girl."

John looked around quickly to look for her. When he found her, he got up and went to talk to her. Sherlock followed him with his eyes. They started talking, and the woman seemed to enjoy the conversation. In minutes he had made her laugh, even though his jokes weren't funny at all.

Then they started playing music, and the new couple had their first dance. In minutes they put up the tempo, and people started dancing. After a few looks, Mycroft reluctantly got up and went to dance with Dana, who of course persuaded him to do so. John danced with the woman in the purple dress. Sherlock went to sit by the bar, where the desperate girls won't come and try to start a conversation, like one did before. He got himself a glass of ale, and drank it slowly, in complete boredom. He regretted he came. John had a good reason to go – the women, of course – but he didn't. So why did he go, when he knew he won't enjoy it? It wasn't like him to be so irrational. After an hour or so, after Sherlock had deduced everything possible in the room, he looked at Mycroft. He wasn't really dancing, of course, just moving around a bit, awkwardly. But he seemed happy again. Why was he so happy? Dana looked at him then, making eye contact. Her smile faded almost completely, and she said something to Mycroft and started walking towards him. Mycroft grabbed her arm and said something angrily. She was with her back to Sherlock now, so he couldn't see what she said to him. But whatever it was, it worked. Mycroft let go of her arm, with an almost disappointed look, and she walked to Sherlock again. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat next to him.

"What did he say when he grabbed your arm?"

"He was upset that I'm going to you again. So I told him that since he's always angry with me when I go to you instead of being with him, now's his chance to go talk to someone else and I'll look at him with jealousy."

"Will you be jealous if he'll dance with someone else?"

"Of course not. And he knows it. But now he has no excuse for being upset."

There was a short silence.

"Well, if we're sitting by the bar, better get something to drink, should we?" she said joyfully. During the whole night she seemed to enjoy herself.

Sherlock re-filled his glass, and Dana got one of her own. She took it down in seconds. Sherlock looked at her with surprise. Of all people, she didn't look like a drinker.

"I think I need something a little stronger." she said. So she got herself something stronger. After the third glass of that 'something stronger', Sherlock looked at Mycroft. He looked upset. But he knew it wasn't because she sat with him. If this was reason, he would have looked at him. But he was looking at her with concern. He looked as if he wants to come and tell her something, but knew she'll get upset if she did, so he didn't.

"You have drinking problems, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"My brother seems very concerned about your amount of drinks."

"Well, he can be concerned as much as he wants. It's about time he realizes that I don't care." She took another zip of her drink. "Besides, I don't have drinking problems. I had a _problem_ caused of drinking." She looked at Sherlock. He looked as if he's waiting for her to continue.

"Well?"

"You can't be curious about this." she said. But he actually was, for some reason. Probably because he was bored to death, and she was about to tell him a story he couldn't deduce. As Sherlock didn't answer her, she sighed and began telling him.

"I had a twin sister called Aly. She was my best friend, even though we were complete opposites – she was the perfect girl that made our parents proud, and I was the one to make them stop being proud." she half smiled when she said that, like she's thinking of all the trouble she had caused to her parents back then. But then her face got serious.

"On April 14th when I was thirteen I came back home from a friend's birthday party. I got in my room, and I found her bleeding body on my bed. She died before the paramedics showed up. And when they did, they thought _I _was the killer, because I had her blood all over my hands. That was because I tried to shake her, to make her wake up and open her eyes. And she was all covered with blood. My sister's blood was all over my hands, and I felt so _guilty_." Her face were filled with sorrow and pain, and Sherlock frowned. He knew it would be appropriate to say something comforting, but he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. And she continued.

"My parents told me that all that was found on her body was a torn photograph of her – no fingerprints, no clue to the killer. The police closed the case because of lack of evidences. She was thirteen, and she was raped and beaten to death, and nobody tried to find the person who did it. My parents gave up too quickly, but I didn't. I started doing much more trouble, got low grades, got violent. She was all I could think of." She took a deep breathe. It was clear that it was difficult for her to tell him that story, and she probably wouldn't have told it if it wasn't for all the drinks she had.

"One year later, on the anniversary of one year to her death, my grandparents invited the family over. I wasn't invited, of course. So I stayed home, alone. I got bored, so I started opening drawer around the house. After about 30 minutes, I found one that was filled with picture albums. All Aly's, of course. So I picked one up and looked at the picture. After a couple of pages I saw a picture that was torn in the middle. I recognized the picture. It was of Aly and me in Halloween when we were 10 and had the same costume. The part in the album was of Aly." she paused and looked at him as if she was waiting for him to understand something. He didn't understand.

"Don't you see? _That _was the picture that was found on her body. The other half of the picture – where _I_ am. The killer intended to kill _me_, but got the wrong twin!" she said, in such a hurt, angry and sorry tone and Sherlock frowned again.

"When I understood it that night, I blamed myself. If I hadn't gone to that party, she was still alive. I couldn't take the pain anymore, so I looked for something to take it away, and I found something alcoholic, can't remember what. I drank the whole bottle in the next hour. And when my parents got home, I shot my father with the gun he was hiding under his bed."

Sherlock was shocked. After a moment, he asked: "Any regrets?"

"Only that I didn't do it earlier. It was his fault, of course. Everything was. My mother didn't think the same way, though. She checked me in a mental institution, claiming that I have a problem. I didn't speak for 3 years there. I didn't have anyone to talk to. That was when I realized I didn't need to talk to learn things about the people around me. I could simply observe. I could see who's not taking his meds, which nurse is actually in a relationship with her patient, which nurse is actually abusing her patient. I stayed at that institution for ten years, and I helped them see what they couldn't see by themselves. After I left the institution, I got myself a flat and got different jobs. I was fired after a couple of months every time, because I deduced my collies or because of the trouble I kept getting into. I lived like that for six years, alone." she stopped and looked at him with disbelief. "You don't care, don't you? Yes, I should shut up for a while."

"No, no. Continue." He cared, for some reason. Ignoring the part where her sister dies, they were very much alike. They were both the neglected child. They were both thought to be mad. They were both utterly alone for a long time. And they both understood what others could never see.

"How did you two meet? You and Mycroft, I mean." he asked. She was surprised he cared, but was too drunk to say anything about it.

"That was two years ago. I was walking back from my job then. It was late and I was tired, so I decided to take a shortcut through an ally. After a few moments, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and two men jumped on my back. I managed to hit them and run, but they grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. I screamed for help, but no one heard. I tried to push them off me again, but one of them punched me in my face so hard my head hit the ground and I blacked-out. By the time I woke up, it was too late. My whole body hurt, and my shirt and pants were somewhere near me. I tried screaming again, but they hit me again. And then I remember hearing footsteps. Both men got up and looked around. Then there was a loud noise, and both men fell down to the ground, not moving. The mysterious man came to me – it was Mycroft. He had seen it all in the cameras. I remember the look on his face when he saw me. He didn't even seem to notice I was naked. All he saw were the bruises on my body and the blood on my face. He removed his coat and rapped me in it, and he took me to his apartment. He washed me, gave me something to wear and put me in his bed. I was half blacked-out then. I woke up terrified, of course. I did not remember how I got there. Mycroft had taken a day off, and he was waiting for me to wake up. He told me what happened, and the evening of the same day was our first date."

Sherlock was stunned. He did not expect such a story. This girl managed to surprise him every single time, and he wasn't that kind of a man. He looked at her. Her partly curly light-brown hair, her thick red lips, her deep blue eyes. There was more in her than he had ever thought. She felt _different_ to him. Special. Clever. Understanding. Strong. He couldn't find the right word for her, and it disturbed him. Why did he care about her so much?

"I think it's time we'll go home." Mycroft said in a serious tone. Neither Dana nor Sherlock had noticed he stood there.

"Why? It's not even that late!"

"You know exactly why. Let's go."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She got up from her chair, but lost her balance fell forward on Mycroft he caught her and said, more quietly: "And here's the reason. You're ought to cut the drinking now."

"Why? I'm even that drunk."

"Walk on a straight line."

"Mycroft, I'm wearing heels. _No one_ can walk on a straight line with heels."

"Sherlock, are you joining us?" Mycroft asked his brother, ignoring her protests.

"Yes. It seems John is doing well on his own, and I can use a ride home."

Mycroft half-hugged half-held Dana and led her outside, and Sherlock followed them. He felt strange watching them together like that. He couldn't describe this feeling, because he didn't recognize it. He knew what John would say about this – that he's falling for his brother's girl. That was rubbish, of course. 'falling' for someone is for regular people, the unintelligent ones. He was better than them. He knew that whatever it is that felt, it wasn't love, even though he was never in love before. But it was strange. Mycroft and Dana were talking quietly, and occasionally one of them laughed. And when they sat in the taxi, they kept talking, and Sherlock simply looked out the window and tried not to listen.

_How much do you remember from last night? DS_

_Everything. I didn't drink as much as you did. SH_

_I didn't mean to tell you all of that. DS_

_I won't tell anyone. SH _

She half smiled at his answer. That was what she wanted him to say. Just then the door opened and Mycroft got in. He came to her and kissed her lightly.

"Bad news. I have to go away for a couple of days. I'm sorry, it's not up to me."

"I _hate_ going to those trips! Is there nothing you can do to cancel it?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't. And you can't come with me this time – it's very confidential."

She looked at him with disbelief.

"Well, you don't expect me to stay here all alone."

"I could always check you in a hotel."

She shook her head. "I'm not going to any hotel."

He sighed. "Well, what do you expect me to do, then?"

"I don't know. Don't you have a friend that can have me for a couple of nights? I hate being alone."

"Don't _you_ have any friends?"

"I actually do. Alright, I'll go packing."

He thought for a moment, and then lowered his voice.

"_Not_ Sherlock."

"Relax, it's not him."

John went to open the door, because Sherlock, as always, ignored it to make John get up instead of him. Dana was there, with a small suitcase. Mycroft was standing behind her, and his look made John be happy that looks can't kill.

"We're friends, right, Dr. Watson?" she asked with a small smile.

"Excuse me?"

"And as my friend, you wouldn't mind having me here for a couple of days, right? Mycroft is leaving for a business trip. I'll help with the dishes and laundry, of course." she ignored his confusion.

"Um, I guess."

Her smile widened as she walked inside. Mycroft inevitably followed.

"Goodbye, Mycroft. Try not to start a war when you're gone." she said and kissed him. He didn't move, so she pushed him to the door.

"Don't you have a flight to catch?"

"Alright, I'm going. Take care." He said, and then raised his look to John, and the subtext was clear – keep her safe. He left and John closed the door behind him.

Dana turned to them and smiled.

"So, what do you usually do in the evenings? I'm already bored."

"Well, I usually complain about the lack of food in here, and after Sherlock ignores me I go shopping for groceries and make myself a snack." said John, and Sherlock smiled.

"Don't you eat, Mr. Holmes?"

"Digesting slows me down."

"Well, that means you hadn't eaten anything good enough to be worth slowing you down. I'll go shopping this time, Dr. Watson, and I'll make dinner. It's the least I can do to thank you for having me here." she said and walked to the door.

"Wait." Sherlock said just as she reached the door. She turned to him.

"Stay. I'll go. That's no way to treat a guest." Sherlock said and without waiting for a response got up and left. John was very surprised. Sherlock _never_ went shopping, and definitely never volunteered to go instead of someone else.

Dana sat down on the sofa, and John sat down on a chair next to her.

"So how did you meet Mycroft?" John tried to break the silence.

"Some men tried to rob me, he helped. Took me to dinner the next day." She obviously lied. The real story was too private. Which is why she felt very vulnerable knowing that Sherlock knows it.

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence again, so John used the opportunity that Sherlock isn't around to let his thoughts out.

"He likes you, you know."

"Well, of course he does. That's the whole point of dating, you know."

"I'm not talking about Mycroft. I'm talking about Sherlock."

She was surprised for a moment.

Sherlock was going up the stairs. He had managed to finish all of the shopping very quickly. He was just about to enter, but then he heard his name. So he waited and listened.

Dana rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't _like_ me. He's interested. And not in a romantic way. Mr. Holmes is a man of mysteries, Dr. Watson, and that's exactly what I am for him. Like a brand new present presented to a child – at first, he will be very excited to know what's inside. After he'll open it, he'll use it for a day or a week – and then forget about it and move to the next gift. All he wants to know is my secrets. Like he always does. The only difference between me and other people is that he can't deduce the secrets out of me – they're too deep inside."

"Well, the result depends on another thing – do_ you_ like _him_?"

Sherlock became nervous. Perhaps his flat mate's mind wasn't as sharp and as quick as his own, but when it came to feeling and emotions, he was the best. Of course he liked Dana. She was beautiful, clever and mysterious. And the most important part – dating his brother. That was why he hadn't done anything about his strange, unwanted feelings. But he was curious to hear her answer. Perhaps, if she'll say she doesn't it'll help him make these feelings go away. His hand became sweaty, and one of the bags of groceries he was holding slipped of his hand and landed loudly on the floor.

Dana opened her mouth to answer, but then a loud noise was heard, so she turned her head over to the door, and so did John. Sherlock reluctantly picked up the bag and entered.

"Sorry about that. The bag slipped." he muttered.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll make us dinner."

She got up and started taking out the groceries out of the bags. Sherlock helped her.

"So, since when are you such a great cook?"

"I have to eat _somehow_."

"Isn't Mycroft cooking sometimes?" John asked. Mycroft seemed to know everything about everything, so it seemed unlikely for him to not help in that part.

Both Sherlock and Dana laughed.

"Mycroft? Cooking?" Sherlock said amused as he continued laughing.

"He almost set a fire once when he tried to boil an egg." she said and they both laughed more loudly. John was still not getting the joke. He guessed he just didn't know Mycroft well enough. Not that he wanted to.

"When we were ten he once really _did_ start a fire when he tried to help our mother with the cooking." Sherlock said, and the two continued laughing. They calmed down after a while, but the smile didn't leave their faces. She started cooking, and Sherlock helped her. She was making spaghetti in tomato sauce, and every time she needed something – salt, pepper, basil – all she had to do was to say the word, and Sherlock immediately got it for her. They were cooperating perfectly. In ten minutes dinner was ready, and they all sat down to eat. John was very surprised to see Sherlock taking himself a plate full of spaghetti, yet he had expected that. She was the one to make it, so of course he'll eat it. And he will like it.

"That's great." Sherlock said, as expected, after taking a mouthful of food, and John smiled to himself.

"I told you you'll like it. You can't starve yourself, it's not healthy."

The rest of the dinner was quiet. Sherlock finished his meal, to their surprise. After they were done, Dana and Sherlock washed the dishes, and John sat down to blog about their recent Chinese 'adventure'. After they were done, Dana went to him and glanced at the computer behind his shoulder.

"_The Blind Banker?_" she quoted.

"Well, the whole case started by the yellow line sprayed over the banker's eyes."

"But that was a minor part of the investigation. What about the cipher? The Black Lotus? Aren't these much more important?"

Sherlock smiled to himself at her reaction. He liked the fact that she too thought that John's descriptions are often not accurate.

Dana yawned and laid on the sofa.

"I'm exhausted. I think I'll go to sleep now, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not." John answered immediately.

"You're not planning on sleeping _here_, are you?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course I am. I'm the guest, so I'll sleep on the sofa."

"You can't sleep here! Take my bed, I'll take the sofa." John objected.

"It's fine, really. Look, I have just enough room." she said and curled up a bit to demonstrate. Since she was with her back to them, she leaned backwards so she will be facing them.

"See– " she started saying, but then she leaned too much backwards and rolled down from the sofa to the floor.

"Are you alright?" John asked worried. If she got hurt in any way, Mycroft would kill him. Literally.

"I'm alright, Dr. Watson. Calm down." she said and got up.

"Take my bed." Sherlock suddenly said.

"Mr. Holmes- "

"I'm not sleeping in my bed tonight, so it will be a shame if you won't use it. Besides, this sofa isn't big enough for both of us, I'm afraid."

"Fine. Goodnight, Dr. Watson. Goodnight, Mr. Holmes. And thank you again for your kind hospitality." she said and went to Sherlock's room. Both men looked at her as she took her suitcase with her and entered his room.

"You were eaves-dropping us, weren't you?"

"What?"

"When the bag fell."

Sherlock hesitated a moment before he answered. He considered the advantages of lying, but came to the conclusion that it would be unhelpful, since John will immediately detect his lie.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

John giggled.

"You _never_ drop anything."

When Sherlock entered the living room, it was empty. Neither Dana nor John were up yet, so he took his laptop and started reading John's recent update in his blog. Just as he finished reading, John entered the room.

"Good morning."

"John, this is appalling. It's all 'and then we ran here! And then we ran there! And it was a code!' What about the analysis, John? The analysis! How did I work it out? How did I know where to go? And as for 'All these people he involves in his adventures... '. My what? I'm sorry, obviously I didn't realize I was a character in a children's story."

John moaned.

"Well, you're very childish. So if the cap fits…"

"Also, please note that sentences can also end in full stops. The exclamation mark can be overused."

"Sherlock, I – "

"Good morning, Dr. Watson. Is everything alright? You two sound a bit upset."

"Good morning Dana. Everything is fine, he's just – "

"_Is that my shirt?_" Sherlock asked in surprise and confusion. She was wearing one of his buttoned shirts, a dark-blue one. It was at the length of a short dress on her, and the sleeves were folded so they wouldn't be too long.

"Well what did you expect me to sleep in?"

"Your _own _clothes?" John asked.

"I forgot to bring anything to sleep in."

"How could you forget that?!"

"You try packing while arguing with Mycroft. It's very distracting."

"You argue quite often, don't you?" Sherlock asked tactlessly.

"I love him, but he can be very over-protective sometimes. Besides, what couple doesn't argue?"

Sherlock didn't like her use of the word 'couple'.

Dana looked around.

"This place is filthy. Do you ever clean here?"

Neither of them answered.

"Forget I asked. Anyway, now I know how am I going to spend the day."

She said that, and started working. From that moment until the sun set, she cleaned the flat. She changed the sheets in their bed, dusted the furniture, and cleaned the floor. She worked all day long, without taking any breaks or complain. And as it got dark, she was done, and she started cooking. She wasn't making them dinner – she prepared food for a whole week. Since she had known the men, she knew neither of them would make anything to eat after she'll leave, so did it instead of them. John left early for he had had a date, so Sherlock and Dana were left alone. They ate dinner together in silence. After they were done, Dana washed the dishes and Sherlock played the violin. Once Dana was done, she went to stand next to Sherlock and looked at him with admiration. She seemed to be fascinated by the music he was playing.

"That was _beautiful_!" she said as he finished playing.

"It's not hard, once you know the basics."

"I wish I knew them as well. I can only play the piano, but I had always wanted to learn how to play a different instrument."

"I could teach you if you want."

"You could?" her face lightened up.

He handed her the violin, and she gently took it. He placed it on her shoulder. He stood behind her, and each of his hands were on hers, holding her in a way he could move them to demonstrate.

"You hold the arch like this, and you simply rub it against the strings." he said and moved her arch-holding hand in a way it would make a sound. She was excited she managed to play something. She turned her head to thank Sherlock, and that was when she realized how close she was to him. His arms were around her, on her arms. His face was centimeters away from hers. They looked at each other like that for a few moments, each thinking what should they do next. Sherlock leaned just a bit forward.

John went inside.

"Well, she ditched me. I waited there, and – what are you doing?" John said, clearly still upset about his cancelled date. Sherlock immediately took a step back, and Dana turned to face John.

"Oh, hello, Dr. Watson. Sorry to hear that. Mr. Holmes was just trying to teach me how to play the violin."

"Are you any good?"

"Well, I've just started."

"Oh. Well, if you don't mind, I'll go and take a shower." He said and left.

Dana and Sherlock looked at him, and then Dana broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What is it about me that keeps you curious? I mean, you know everything about me. What is left for you to find out?" she said and turned to him, still standing very close to him.

Sherlock opened his mouth, and then closed it. Then he opened it again and spoke very quietly.

"I have… I have to know _why_ is my brother so different around you. Why you argue very often, yet you're always the one to win. Why is he so worried about you all the time, and treats you with such delicacy he think you could just break in any minute?"

Her face became blank, and Sherlock understood she was dead-serious as she answered him.

"Well, you'll have to work very hard for that part, because I'm _never_ going to tell you that part."

They exchanged looks, and just then John went out of the bathroom, and Dana's impression changed immediately. She looked much more calm.

"I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." she said and walked to Sherlock's room. Just as she got to the door, she turned around.

"Dr. Watson." she called, and he raised his head.

"If she stood you up, she was never worth of your time." She said with a shy smile, and then entered the room and closed the door behind her.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Where's Dr. Watson?" she said as she entered the room. This time she was wearing a different shirt, a black one.

"Got himself some breakfast date."

"Good for him. Maybe that way he'll forget about last night's failure."

She got herself something to eat, Sherlock didn't notice what. He was too busy debating with himself whether to say what's on his mind or too keep quiet.

"It's my turn now." he decided to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"You asked me a question yesterday. Now it's my turn to ask you one."

"I can't say I like this suggestion, but I suppose it would be unfair of me to not answer as well."

"That night, at the party, you were with Mycroft, yet as you noticed I was alone, you came to sit beside me. Why did you do that? Why did you care?"

Her expression became softer as she spoke.

"You looked bored, and lonely. Everyone is lonely sometimes, we deal with it. But I knew the boredom was much worse for you than the loneliness."

Sherlock wasn't sure if he was more touched or confused.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, you _did_ shoot a wall once. Besides, you're like me. We'll do anything to not be bored." she smiled shyly. One of Sherlock's mouth corners lifted instinctively in reaction to her smile.

"By the way, I read Dr. Watson's blog the other night. It said it was the cabbie that did it. But why did he do it? He never mentioned it in his blog."

Sherlock was pleased of her curiosity.

"He had a sponsor. It wasn't very easy to get his name, but I eventually did."

"What was it?"

"Moriarty."

"Hmmm." she looked away for a moment.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"It was Dr. Watson who shot him, wasn't it?" she asked with a satisfied smile.

After a few seconds he answered. "Who else would want to save me?"

They looked at each other for a short while, and then her phone rang.

"Speaking of people who care about you…" she murmured and answered the call.

"Hello, darling. How was the flight back?"

She laughed.

"Did you miss me?"

She blushed, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Alright, I'll take a taxi and come."

As Sherlock thought, Mycroft had a different plan.

"No, you don't have to come – "

Sherlock was amused by hearing only one side of the argument.

"I'll just take a – "

"I have feet of my own, you – "

"Fine. Come."

She hung up.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go pack up my things now, because my boyfriend is a control freak."

Sherlock giggled and she smiled and went to his room to change. Meanwhile, Sherlock washed the dish she used.

When she was back, she was wearing her regular tight jeans and a black shirt.

"It's my turn again." she said, and Sherlock immediately understood what she was referring to.

"Ask away."

"Did Mycroft ever have a girlfriend before me?"

Sherlock was surprised, both by the answer and by the obvious answer she did not think about by herself.

"You've met him. What do you think the answer is?"

She laughed shortly, but then became more serious.

"He's very sweet, you know. He's different when we're together. More thoughtful and kind."

"But he is a control freak."

She smiled.

"I suppose some things are unchangeable."

"Alright, my turn."

"Ask away." she said, mocking him.

"Did _you_ have a boyfriend before him?"

She smiled humourlessly.

"You've met me. What do you think the answer is?"

Sherlock knew what she meant. _He_ thought she was perfect, but he was different from everyone else, and he knew it. And the same with Mycroft. But that was why he had liked her – she was different, too.

Someone knocked on the door, and Sherlock went to open. Mycroft walked in, ignoring Sherlock.

"Good morning, brother." he murmured sarcastically.

Dana got up, smiling, and hugged him.

"Hello, love." He said as they separated. "Missed me much?"

Her smile grew bigger and she kissed him a long and passionate kiss. After a while, Sherlock felt awkward, so he cleared his throat to draw their attention. As he hoped, they separated.

"Well, I think we'll head home now."

She nodded and took her suitcase.

"Thank you for having me here, Mr. Holmes."

He nodded.

They left, and Sherlock went to close the door. As he was only two steps away from the door, Mycroft appeared there.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

And then he turned and left, and Sherlock closed the door behind him.

_Apparently Mycroft is going away again, but this time I'm joining him. Try not to have an interesting case until I'm back. DS_

_At the moment it seems that the criminals are out of inspiration, so don't worry. If you're bored you could always help us find who that Moriarty is. SH _

Sherlock smiled at his phone, amused by the message he had just sent. Then, there was a big explosion. The glass behind him shattered and he fell on his face.

"It's been four days, Mycroft. Neither of them answered my texts. How can you not be worried?"

"Try calling them."

"I already did. No answer. And have you seen the strange posts in your brother's website? He said something about a pool, and about the something-plans you've mentioned once."

"Dana…"

"I'm going to their flat."

She walked quickly out, and got a taxi. She was genuinely worried. They clearly had an interesting case, but it also seemed to be a very dangerous one. Not to mention the explosion that occurred in Baker Street. She had no sign of life from either of them.

The cab stopped and she paid the cabbie and got out quickly. She walked very quickly, and by the time was at the stairs she was running. She knocked on the door loudly. The door was opened, and she stormed in.

"Why aren't you answering your phones? I've been worried sick!"

She turned to face the man who opened the door, and it was neither Sherlock nor John. She tried to run out of the flat, but the man grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor. He shut the door, and she got up and hit him in the face. He grasped her arm and twisted in. She groaned in pain, and the man pulled out a gun and hit her head. Everything went black.

Sherlock and John entered the flat, after being at the pool. They were both still very excited about what has happened there. They walked in, and then they both stopped in shock as they looked at the sofa.

Dana laid there, her body full of cuts, wounds and blood.

Her eyes were closed.

John ran to her. He put her head over her mouth.

"She's still alive. Call an ambulance!"

Sherlock didn't move. He was completely frozen.

"Sherlock!"

As he didn't respond, John moaned and called them by himself.

Sherlock was frustrated. Dana was at the hospital. She needed a surgery, but no one could guarantee she'll survive it. He tried to deduce something, _anything_ from the flat, but he was too emotional to do so. He looked around again. He saw the place where she fell down. Then his gaze went to a bloody chair, which she clearly sat on while it all happened. There was a tiny piece of a rope on the floor beneath in, so her hands were tied. But you didn't need to be a genius to figure that out.

Sherlock put his hands on his head. This had never happened to him. There was always _something_. A clue. No killer was that clever. _She's not dead_, he reminded himself. He looked at the coffee table that was in front of the chair. There was nothing on it but his laptop. He had a strange feeling about it for a second, and then he understood why. That wasn't where he had left it – he left it in his room. And that wasn't the only thing peculiar about it: it was strangely exactly in front of the chair. He opened it, and there was a white 'play' arrow on a black screen.

Sherlock immediately pulled out his phone from his pocket. He texted John quickly, telling him to come over. Then he dialed a number quickly and called.

"What is it?"

"Come to my flat. Now."

"Sherlock, I'm too occupied right now for your little riddles."

"This _is_ about her, Mycroft."

There was no answer for a moment.

"I'm on my way."

They put the computer on the other edge of the table. John was sitting on a chair in front of it, a different one, and the brothers stood behind him. He clicked play, and a video started playing. And it was of Dana. She was sitting on the chair, her hands tied behind her back. No cuts on her body. Still alive. She opened her eyes.

"Rise and shine." said an unknown man. He was invisible to the camera, but she was looking at him.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The man hesitated a moment before answering, and when he finally did, his voice was full of contempt.

"The question is not who _I _am, it is who_ sent_ me."

Her eyes widened with comprehension and fear.

"Moriarty." she said quietly.

"He doesn't like you sniffing around about him. You found out too much about him in your little trip. Was your boyfriend not giving you enough attention?"

"I won't tell them. Not a word."

"Of course you won't. You won't be alive for that long."

The look in her eyes changed as he said that. She looked terrified, but also defeated. Like a scared puppy – helpless.

"Are you recording me?" she whispered.

"Your 'friends' should know why you died. Get the warning." he said the word 'friends' in disparagement.

"Can I say something?" she whispered even more quietly.

"Well, it is usually the villain asking for the last words, but go ahead."

She looked straight to the camera now. She seemed to be shaking. Both Sherlock and Mycroft were petrified with horror, fear and anger.

"Mycroft, I love you. This is _not_ your fault. I got myself into this, and these are the consequences. But this is _my _fault, not yours."

And even though she looked scared to hell, she wasn't crying. She stayed strong for him.

"Is that it?"

She nodded.

"Didn't you forget someone?"

After a moment, she looked to the camera again.

"Thank you, Dr. Watson. For everything. And I'm sorry about your furniture. I'll try not bleed out much." she said as her voice broke, but she smiled, humourlessly, to cover up for it.

John's hand closed into a fist, and his fingers turned white because he squinted his hand so hard. He should have thanked her when she said that about his date. He should have been nicer to her.

"Are you done now?"

She nodded again, her face down.

"Are you sure? I think you left someone out."

She didn't move.

"How about your love interest?" he said in disdain.

"I've already talked to Mycroft."

"No, not him."

She lifted her head, and her eyes at last sparkled with tears.

"You haven't told him, haven't you? Well, I would do the same thing if I were you. How could you look at your boyfriend's eyes, and tell him you're in love with his _very own brother_?"

She looked to the floor again, and they could see the tears falling. John looked at Mycroft, and then regretted doing so. He looked so hurt, confused, betrayed, but also very sad. Dana opened her mouth, but then closed it again without saying a word. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, telling him he's lying, but she couldn't. He was right, and she was both happy and sad because of it. She hated herself desperately for doing this to Mycroft. She never did stop loving him, she just starting loving someone else. Sherlock. He was _so much_ like her. She felt more comfortable next to him than she had ever felt with Mycroft. He understood her so perfectly, in ways his brother isn't capable of.

Sherlock feelings were storming as well. He was terribly happy to find out about her feelings, but he felt bad for his brother. As estranged they were to each other, he was still his brother.

Dana's lips moved, but no voice was heard, and only the brothers could make sense of what she said – "I love you both."

"Well, my time is being wasted." the man said, and a gun was pointed at her. She flinched in her chair, but the pistol was draw back.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we relive the past?" he said, and a knife was pulled. Dana's face filled with pain, as they did only once before – and Sherlock understood immediately what he was talking about. And he hated him for saying that.

"After twenty two years, the sisters are finally reunited."

"She doesn't have a sister." Mycroft muttered. Then he looked at Sherlock, and by the look on his face he understood what was going on.

"She never told me." He said quietly.

The man walked towards her, and just as he was blocking her completely, the video stopped. They all stared at the screen for a moment, and then Mycroft's phone rang. He answered, said a few words, and hung up.

"It's the hospital. She's out of the surgery. She's alive."

They were all in her room. She was unconscious, and her body was full of countless stitches. Sherlock was sitting on a chair beside her, and John was on a chair next to him. Mycroft was standing at the corner.

"It's your fault." Sherlock muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Everything. This. Your fault."

"And how is it my fault exactly?" he asked angrily.

"If you hadn't made her go with you …" he said and turned on the chair so he'll face him.

"This has nothing to do with me! If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself."

"Me?!" he got up and stood a few paces away from him.

"_You_ asked her to sniff around about Moriarty! She did it to please _you_!" he raised his voice, almost shouting now.

"You gave her the chance to do so!" Sherlock _was_ shouting.

"Sherlock…" John tried to calm them and stood up as well.

"She wouldn't have known about him if you hadn't told her!"

"Boys!" John shouted, and they both turned to look at him. But their gaze drifted from him to what was behind him. Dana's eyes were open now, and she was breathing heavily, looking around in fear. Sherlock rushed to her, sat next to her and took her hand in his.

"Hey. Hey, it's ok. It's ok. You're safe now. Everything's alright." he took slow, deep breathes, and Dana did the same. She calmed down after a while, and starting understanding what was happening.

"I'm in the hospital."

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"I'm alive."

"Yes." he confirmed as well, this time with relief.

She looked down at her hand. Sherlock was holding it, and he pulled his hand back now.

She looked to Mycroft now. He seemed relieved, but also extremely hurt. After a second she remembered why.

"Mycroft, I…" her voice trailed off.

"It's alright. You just helped me do what I was afraid of, but now I see that is very necessary."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about. I can't do this anymore, Dana. I love you, you know I do, but that's not enough. There are things that are more important for a relationship. Like trust, and understanding, which we both have a lack of. But you do have it with him, and I don't want to be the one who got in your way. I would have waited with this until you're better so you won't be alone, but you're not alone. You have him."

"I'm sorry." she whispered with sparkling eyes.

"Not as much as I am."

He turned to walk away, and he stood at the door when she called him.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"We could still be friends, right? I can't live without you."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Of course we can." he said and then left. He knew staying friends with her would hurt him, but he still loved her, and he'd do anything to keep her happy.

"I think we'll go now." John said eventually.

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Come on, let's go." he said and pulled Sherlock out by his arm. And as they left the room, they heard her starting weeping quietly.

Sherlock sat on the chair with a straight back, waiting for a knock. It's been three weeks since that night, and Dana was finally released home. But since she lived with Mycroft and they've broke up, she couldn't live there anymore. So Sherlock suggested having her, until she finds a new flat.

At last, someone knocked on the door, and it was Dana. She had two suitcases with all her belongings in them, but she looks so weak her took them both without asking. He put them in his room, as she will obviously stay there, and she closed the door. They both inevitably thought of the previous time she stayed there – when she was still Mycroft's girl, and their feelings were each other were still confused and unknown.

Sherlock was back, and she was sitting on the sofa, staring at the air. She was different since that night – quieter, less alive. Sherlock felt as if she's drifting away from him further and further with every moment that passed, so he drew her attention.

"So how is it like, being home again?"

"It's alright. Better than the hospital."

"Hungry?"

"No." she was obviously lying.

"When was the last time you've eaten?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly. It's not healthy to starve yourself all day. You taught me that."

He got up and took out a box out of the fridge. He put some of its content on a plate and put it the microwave. While it was heating there, he brought her a fork and a knife. Then the microwave made a sound, and he quickly brought the plate over. And it was the same meal of pasta she prepared to them that day. She smiled at the gesture, but also because she wondered if that was the only thing he knew how to cook, since he barely ate anything.

She ate slowly, in silence. After she was done, he took the plate, the knife and the fork and put them in the sink.

"How was the food?"

"Good. It was good."

There was silence again.

"Why don't you go to sleep? I know it's early, but you seem exhausted."

"No, I'm fine."

"Go to sleep."

"Fine." She got up and walked slowly to the bedroom.

"Goodnight." he called to her, but she didn't answer.

He stared at the room's door for a while, but then, having nothing better to do, he went to sleep as well. He fell asleep more quickly than usual.

"Mr. Holmes." a voice whispered, and he immediately woke up. It was Dana, once again wearing one of his shirts, but it was too dark for him to see which one.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind sharing the bed with me for the night?" She asked quietly, and after a moment added: "I can't sleep alone."

"Of course." he got up quickly and escorted her to the room, she got in the bed without even looking at him, and he was too happy than he should have been when he did the same. This time it took home longer to fall sleep, because his heart was beating too quickly. But eventually he did. After an unknown period of time, he felt movement and he woke up again. Dana was sitting on the bed, her head between her hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a bad dream." she said tiredly. It took Sherlock a while to understand what was she really trying to say.

"That's why you're so tired, isn't it? You keep having nightmares ever since that night, that's why you don't sleep."

"They were always the same, or at least very similar," she said with a shaking voice, "always me hurting someone else, or someone else hurting me. But this one was different." She turned her head to look at him.

"I was hurting you in this one."

Sherlock was surprised hurting him had effected her so deeply, but as he saw the tears in her eyes he immediately forgot about that.

"Hey. Hey." He got up to sitting and got closer to her. He put his hand on her cheek in a way she had to look at him.

"I'm fine. And so are you. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep now."

She gave him a frightened look, so he added: "I won't let anything hurt you."

She slowly laid down again, and so did Sherlock. She closed her eyes, and she fell asleep quickly. Sherlock didn't close his eyes. He didn't stop looking at her. She was with her back to him, but watching her back moving up and then down slowly, hearing her breathing, calmed him down.

After about an hour, she started moving. Shaking. She was clearly in the middle of a nightmare.

"Shhh. It's ok. I'm here. It's ok." he pulled her closer to him and whispered in her ear. She slowly stopped shaking, and he pulled her even closer. Her head was on his shoulder, and he kept whispering calming words to her for half an hour. Then, he was too tired to keep his eyes open, and he fell asleep. His dream was much better than hers, and he suspected it was because of the lack of distance between them.

This time Dana woke up first. When she just opened her eyes, she was surprise to see the sun shining. He hadn't slept in that late for too long. Then she noticed her position. Her head was on Sherlock's shoulder, and his hand was around her. She laid there for a moment, enjoying the physical touch between them, and then gently lifted his arm and quietly got up and out of the bed. Surprisingly, it didn't wake him up.

The long night's sleep made her feel incredibly better. She went to the kitchen and prepared herself a cup of tea, and waited for him to wake up. After fifteen minutes he did.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes."

"Good morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Perfect." After a few seconds she continued. "Thank you for the night. I needed that."

"No problem." He murmured.

"These dreams always make me feel like I'm mad, you know. Maybe I am. That is how they diagnosed me - bipolar disorder, chronic nightmares, anxiety, sometimes suicidal. Maybe they're right. Maybe I _am_ mad after all." she started at the air when she said that, she didn't even look at him.

And that was it. The question Sherlock wanted the answer for was_ finally_ answered - her mother didn't check her in a mental hospital to get rid of her, she did it because she _needed_ it. Mycroft was so different around her because he was constantly worried about her mental fragility. She was so brilliant because she was _mad_.

Just like him.

"Being mad isn't necessarily a bad thing. Mad people tend to be the brightest."

She smirked at him.

"Don't try to compliment me. Besides, you don't have an excuse for being so bright."

"I barely talk to my brother. I observe at corpses for living and it doesn't affect me. I can read through everyone and everything in seconds, but when it comes to emotions I'm lost. How's that for mad?"

Her look became softer, and Sherlock he officially broke all of her walls. She now knew she had nothing to hide from him.

The next few days passed the same way. They were inseparable. She either looked at him as he played the violin, or put her head on his shoulder as he was working on the computer, and when they got bored, she put her head in his lap and they talked, very quietly, as he stroked her hair. John had several dates those days, since Sherlock was completely ignorant to him when she was around. They still shared the bed, even though Dana didn't have any more nightmares, but she was afraid that they'll come back as soon as she'll stop being close to him at night.

"That was fast." she said to him as he was back from the shopping.

"I did my best."

She got up from the chair to help him with the bags. She was wearing an egg-plant coloured shirt this time. Sherlock led her help him only because he knew she was much stronger now. She was sleeping well at nights and resting at the days, so of course she was better.

After they finished organizing the groceries, they were both standing in the middle of the room, a few paces away from each other.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to thank you. You've been so kind and thoughtful during the last month. I don't deserve such treatment, yet you gave it to me. So thank you." she smiled shyly.

"No problem. And you _do _deserve it." he smiled as well.

Her smile grew bigger, and she hugged him. After she finished back, and leaned back and got away from him. But she didn't take her hands of the back of his neck. They looked at each other for a moment, each wondering what the other will do. Then she kissed him. It was a strong and passionate kiss. But it was short, and then she pulled back and looked at him again. She was waiting to see his reaction. He was, of course, shocked. He had wanted this to happen for such a long time, but this was, in fact, his first kiss. And he was surprised, confused and extremely happy. His heart was beating fast, and he felt hot. And without hesitating, he kissed her. His kiss was more passionate than hers. And it lasted longer. He enjoyed every single moment of it. And so was she. Her hands grasped his hair, and they were both breathing heavily. His hands went lower, to her back, and pulled her even closer to him. Then, her hands moved down his back under his coat, and he knew what she was trying to do. He was nervous, since he had never been in a situation like this before, but he had nothing to worry about. That was the first time in his life when his body controlled his actions instead of his mind. He took down his coat instinctively, and kissed her neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. Then he kissed her again, and at the same time unbuttoned her shirt.

"There's a bedroom, right there." she whispered heavily.

"I know." he said without stopping looking at her shirt.

"Dr. Watson might come home at every second."

His look moved to her eyes.

"Let's go."

And they moved without separating to the room, and they both laughed when her back hit the wall. Sherlock closed the door behind them, smiling like he never did before.

Dana woke up. It took her a moment to remember what happened the night before, and when she did she smiled. She got up and put on a different shirt, a pink one she was surprised he had. She walked to the living room, and on her way she heard Sherlock's voice, and also John's, who sounded different. She saw Sherlock, wrapped up in a sheet, sitting on a chair and having a video chat with John. The camera in his laptop made her think about that night, but she immediately dismissed the memory. She was too happy to think about it.

"Good morning, love." she called to him.

"Good morning." he called back and smiled.

"Wait, _'love'_? Why did she call you 'love'?" John asked in confusion.

"Is that John?"

"It is."

"Wha – _John_?!" John was even more confused. She _never _called him like that, always 'Dr. Watson'.

"Oh, hello John!" she said joyfully and sat on Sherlock's leg, so she would also be a part of the conversation.

Just then John understood what the combination of the different nicknames, Sherlock's lack of trousers, their joyfulness and their closeness meant – and his eyes widened with surprise. The couple laughed.

"Not possible." he said in shock.

"Yet it is." Sherlock said, and kissed her in protest.

"What _happened _last night?!"

They laughed again.

"Well, back to the case now." Sherlock turned half-serious.

"Wait, update me." she said in curiosity.

"Alright. So there's a man –" John started explaining, as a figure appeared behind them and closed the computer.

Sherlock opened his eyes. He was still dizzy and confused from whatever the woman injected him with. He got up quickly, and tried to get up but fell down. Dana entered the room as she heard the fall.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

"How did I get here?"

"I don't suppose you remember much. We brought you here, although I should warn you – I think Lestrade filmed you."

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman. The woman."

"Oh, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her."

He got up, and stood in front of her, still a bit dizzy.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"This. Us. I can't do this. I look at you, and I know you're thinking of her. And I can't do that. I just can't. I suppose I deserve this, watching the man I love falling for someone else, but I'm not as strong as Mycroft. I can stay here anymore."

"What? I'm not _falling_ for her." he frowned.

"But you are, Sherlock. You are. Perhaps you're bad in analyzing emotions, but I'm not. And you're attracted to her, in some freakish strange way, but who am I to judge. I love you, Sherlock. But I'm just not strong enough."

This was the first time she had ever told him she loved him, and it was when she was about to leave.

"I'm _not_ attracted to her!"

"Then say it! Tell me you'll drop the case and forget about her. Say it."

She looked at him with a desperate look, but he remained silent. He just couldn't leave the case.

"Go back to sleep now. I'll be gone before dawn." she said softly.

"Don't leave." He said quietly.

"If you'll want me back, all you'll have to do is to find me and ask me to come. But only after you've forgotten about Irene Adler." she said, and turned.

"Goodbye, darling. I'll miss you."

And then she left.

Sherlock looked out the window at the pouring rain. He thought of the moment when he saved Irene Adler's life. He did not regret doing that – he couldn't let her die. She attracted him in some strange unwanted way, and he couldn't let her die. But he had no intentions of ever seeing her again. She had made him weak, ignorance to obvious facts, and irrational when he needed his mind to be sharp the most.

And as he thought of being so weak and vulnerable, he inevitably thought of the only other person who made him even weaker – Dana. Not only that loved her – not attracted, loved – she loved him as well, and that was a very rare combination. The only love he had ever had, and he led her leave.

But perhaps it wasn't too late.

He remembered what she had said to him before she left – that if he'll want her back, all he has to do is to come to her and ask her to come back to him, and tell her he's forgotten about Irene Adler. His was willing to do that, _desperate_ to do that. During the whole ruckus around the camera-phone, he never did stop thinking about her. He had missed her. But there was, of course, the obvious problem – she never told him where she lives now.

It didn't take him long to come up with an answer. Every street in London was filmed by some camera, and every camera was watched by some man.

_"What is it, Sherlock?" _ Mycroft answered impatiently.

"You know where she lives now, don't you? You follow her in the cameras."

He didn't answer for a moment.

_"I'm not giving you the address."_ he said coldly.

"What? Why?"

_"Because all you do is to hurt her. There was nothing I could do back then, but now there is."_

"Mycroft!" Sherlock said furiously. He refused to believe in his words.

_"No."_ he said again with determination.

Sherlock was hopeless. Mycroft could be very sturdy when there was something he cared about, but he _had_ to find Dana. He had only one idea to something that might soften him, but it wasn't easy to say. But he would do anything to have her back, so he said it.

"I love her, Mycroft. I love her. I need her."

Mycroft was quiet. He knew what Sherlock's feelings were towards her, but never thought it was something more than a small affection or interest. He was his _brother_, and there was a limit to how much he could let him suffer.

_"21 Northumberland Street_._"_ he finally, said.

Sherlock smiled slightly when he heard the name – it was the street where John had left his walking cane behind.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

_"I don't need your thankfulness. I need her safety."_ he said and hung up. He did appreciate his thanks, but it didn't mean a thing to him if it meant endangering her.

Sherlock looked at his phone for a second, then grinned and put on his jacket.

"Where are you going?" John asked as he walked in.

"To get her back."

John immediately understood who his was talking about.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Well, of course. Someone should pay for the taxi." He said and smiled sarcastically to him. John rolled his eyes but followed him anyway.

Dana was sitting on the couch in her small apartment. She looked at what she was holding in her hand. She knew it is a very big decision, the _biggest_, but she already knew what she'll choose.

She was too lonely to keep going.

She raised the gun and put it closer to her head.

Sherlock just got to the door. After knocking on all of the doors, he had finally found the only one he didn't try yet. He knocked.

She didn't hear him. She loaded the gun.

Sherlock heard the familiar sound and panicked. Whoever it is threatening her, he won't live long now.

He busted the door opened with his shoulder.

Dana got up as he entered, surprised. It took her a few moments to understand who it was. She lowered the gun.

Sherlock looked around, looking for the threatening person. Only after a while he noticed the gun in her hand, and understood what was happening.

"Oh god. Give me that." he said and pulled the gun out of her hand. She didn't resist. She was frozen. She thought she would never hear his voice again.

"Can you explain what the hell you were thinking?" he said with anger. And then all of the happy emotions she had felt faded, and the depression she felt before he came returned.

"You forgot." she said quietly, almost whispering.

"Forgot what?"

And then Sherlock realized. In the chaos of the last few months, he forgot about today's date.

April the 14th.

The anniversary of Aly's death.

No wonder she had become suicidal – she didn't expect to be alone in that day, after such a long time she had been with Mycroft. That alongside with her unstableness had caused to her nearly-suicide.

"Oh no. It's today. I'm so sorry." he frowned and said with a voice full of regret and sorry.

She looked up at his eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"She should have been the one to live now. Not me. She deserved this." Her voice broke when she said the word 'this'.

"No, don't say that. Hey…" he put two fingers under her chin so she had to look at him. He put his other hand on her cheek, and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "_You deserve to live_. You are the best person I have ever met. You're brilliant, kind, helpful, tolerant, friendly, and don't tell me I'm being subjective, because I am not. I'm just describing you what I saw in you in the moment we met. And let's not get started on how beautiful you are."

He lowered his face so they will be closer to hers. He lowered his voice as well.

"Every single second you live, you make the world a better place. Just by existing. Your life, _you_, are the most glorious thing I have ever got the luck to witness. So don't take them away from me. Is that clear? I love you, Dana. Don't ever do this again."

"Don't leave me then." she whispered, and Sherlock pulled her closer and hugged her tightly. And, when no one could see, he shed a tear. He was so afraid. He loved her so much.

She moved back in with them that night. The first thing she did when she saw John was to hug him. After a moment of surprise, he hugged her back. As soon as they got back to the flat, Sherlock sent her to take a shower and go to sleep, and he did the same. He wanted to end that day as fast as possible. In the morning the couple sat together on the sofa and John sat on a chair as she told them how she spent the time without them with Sherlock's arm wrapped around her.

"Well, it wasn't easy to find a flat. But Mycroft got involved, of course, and on the same day I had a place to stay in. it was small and dusty, but I didn't need anything more. I got myself a job as a waitress, but I got fired very quickly, for I had deduced something from one of the clients that caused a big fight. Then I found a job as a secretary in some company. I quitted it after my boss tried to start an office romance, which was apparently a common habit of his no one bothered warning me about. Then I worked as a secretary in Scotland Yard, and constantly helped him with his cases. I got no credit for it, of course, but I didn't care. I only did it to not get bored. But I quitted it as well about a week ago. I had a breakdown, and I couldn't keep going to work."

"What happened?" John asked in concern.

"I… I saw you meeting Mycroft in the street. After not seeing either of you for such a long time, it made me think of what I left behind when I left you." she said and looked down shyly, and Sherlock pulled her even closer to him. It felt so good, being so close to her again. But he was constantly worried about her now, after he had seen how fragile and unstable she really is. He started understanding why Mycroft was always so cautious around her.

"Well, let's not talk about it anymore. We shouldn't discuss the past." It took her a moment to think of a different subject to talk about. "So, John, any potential girlfriends in the near future?"

"Wha – I am _not_ discussing about my sex life with you!" John said with disbelief, and the couple laughed.

"He does have a reason to be embarrassed, though. The sociopath detective has a girlfriend, and he doesn't." she said and put her head on his shoulder. They hadn't kissed each other since she was back, but she was so close to him it was enough. Besides, he was afraid that she is still not ready for it, and seeking it would cause her to withdraw into herself again, and that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

That was how they had spent the next days – just like they did before, after she was released from the hospital. Always together, always very close and intimate, yet they never kissed. She became comfortable with him, like before, but their lips never met.

"I'm going out for a while. Having lunch with Mycroft. I haven't seen him for a long time as well." she said in the afternoon of one day.

"Alright darling, have fun. I'll be here. Haven't practiced the violin for a while now."

"Compose me something nice." she said with a smile and left.

He, of course, took her request seriously. For two hours, all he did was to compose her 'something nice'. It took him a while, but he eventually made it. After those two hours, just as he set down on the sofa, Dana entered. She had a key now, so she didn't have to knock.

"Hello, darling."

"How was lunch?" he said and got up to her. She ignored him and walked to the window.

"Fine."

She was acting strange, but he thought Mycroft probably said something that upset her. There was a small bump in the lower back of her shirt with a familiar shape. It took him only a few seconds to recognize what it was, and just as he did, she pulled the gun out, turned to face him and pointed it at him. He was absolutely startled. Not only he had no idea where she got the gun, he was shocked by the situation itself.

"Surprised much?" she said with a teasing smile. And for a moment, she really seemed… bad. Even evil at some level. But then her hair covered one of her eyes, so she instinctively put it behind her ear. And that was when he saw something small and black in her ear.

"Hello,Moriarty."

"It's the earphone, isn't it? Shame, this could have been much more fun." she said in a sarcastically disappointed tone.

"I already know who you are. This whole 'using other voices' is getting old and useless."

"Useless? Oh, I wouldn't say that. Besides, who said I'm repeating his words? These could be my own words, and the earphone is just for general control." she smiled as if she is genuinely enjoying this, in some sadistic way.

Sherlock knew he is just trying to play with him, and he did his best to disconnect the words from the voice saying them. But he couldn't.

"Leave her alone." He said furiously and quietly.

She slowly walked closer to him. "No." she said in a loud whisper when she was less than a pace away from him, and then kissed him passionately. It was extremely hard for Sherlock to push her away from him, for he had missed that feeling so much, but he did. And she had such a satisfied look when he did.

"What happened, love? Don't love me as much now?" she asked teasingly, and then kissed him again, even more passionately. This time his body was stronger than his head. He kissed her back, as hard as he could. Her hands got under his coat, so he put his hands behind his back so it would be easier for her to take down his coat. His coat really did fell down, but then he felt something strange around his wrists, and his hands were tied. Dana pulled back from the kiss, smiling with satisfaction. Sherlock struggled against his bonds, but they were too strong for him to break free. She pushed the back of his knees with her feet, and he fell down to his knees. She pushed his shoulder, and he helplessly fell down. She bent down and tied his legs as well.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's _fun_." she said, still smiling. She whistled, and two men entered the flat. They picked him up, and no matter how hard he was struggling to make them drop him, they were stronger. They went outside and entered a car that already waited out, and Dana followed them.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a minute of driving.

"Well, if I tell you, it would ruin the surprise." she answered without looking at him.

After a few minutes, the car stopped. The men opened the door and carried Sherlock out, and Dana followed them. They entered a large building, which seemed to be an empty shed. They entered it, and it was all dark, except for a large circle of light. In it were Moriarty, and three chairs. On one of them sat John, on the other Mycroft, and the men put Sherlock on the third empty one. All men tied. All helpless. The men put gags in their mouths.

"You can take it off now." Moriarty said to Dana. Her look changed, and she looked extremely relieved as she pulled the earphone out, threw it to the ground and stepped on it. But after she finished, she looked at the four men in front of her, and her look turned into pure guilt.

"Thank you, Dana, for your kind help." Moriarty said with an exaggerated bow.

"You see, we ran into each other when she left the older Holmes brother here, and I told her that if she'll ever want to see him and her blogger friend again, she'll have to say exactly as I say, and make it _convincing._" Moriarty explained theatrically to the tied men, who looked at him with rage, and at her with remorse. They must have known how difficult it was for her.

"I think they're trying to ask why you wanted me to bring them here."

Moriarty pulled his eyebrows up with surprise.

"Did you not tell them?" he asked innocently, as the men looked at her with questions in their eyes. She looked at him with hatred.

"I suppose I will tell them myself then. You see, that night, when I came by to visit her, my man offered her a choice – she could either join me and become _my_ intern, or she could die. But clearly her life means nothing to her, as she gave up on them very quickly, so I decided to help her make the right choice this time. So what would it be, Dana Scott – your freedom, or their lives?"

She desperately looked at the men, and then at him, as if he would suddenly change his mind. All men shook their heads quickly, as they all knew what she would prefer to choose – their lives. Neither of them could let her go and work for him. Not only it would break her, it would also mean she'll have to leave them. The brothers preferred to die rather than to know she left to save them, and the doctor simply couldn't let her sacrifice herself like that.

"Hurry up. I don't have the whole day." Moriarty said impatiently.

"Well, I see you need a lesson or two in thinking quickly. How about an incentive?" he said and snapped his fingers. One of his men came to him, holding a gun.

"Let's reduce the number of Holmes's in this room. First to come, first to go." He said, and the man stood behind Mycroft and placed the gun behind his head. He started breathing heavily, and Sherlock fought his bonds again. Perhaps they weren't very close, but he would never let him die without fighting.

"No, no, wait! No, no, no, no, stop, no. Stop." She said hysterically and stretched her arms towards him. The man looked at Moriarty, and as he nodded, he put the gun away. Dana and Sherlock breathed out in relief.

"So, what is it? You or them?"

She looked at them helplessly again.

"Sherlock? Are you in there?" said a familiar rough voice.

"What? What is he doing here?" Moriarty asked her furiously and the man pointed the gun to Mycroft's head again.

"No, wait, I didn't say him a word!" she said hysterically again.

"I'm going in!" Lestrade said, and some men busted the door open. They all turned to look at them, but when they turned back, Moriarty and his men were already gone.

"Alright, Miss, you're under arrest." He said and handcuffed her.

"Wait, _me_?! What for?!" she asked in shock.

"Kidnap of three, obviously."

"What – that wasn't me!" she said as the other men freed Sherlock, John and Mycroft.

"Well, I don't see anyone else in here." Lestrade said and looked around.

A man went over to Dana and pulled her arm in order to take her out. She struggled and kicked him, so he pulled out his electric shocker and shocked her. She fell unconscious to the floor. Sherlock, who was now free, walked quickly to the man who shocked her and hit him. As soon as Mycroft was free as well, he quickly went to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his from his back so he would stop beating the man.

"Let me go." he said in rage, yet quietly.

"No. As tempting as it might be, beating this man is _not_ the solution."

After a few moments, Sherlock calmed down, and John was finally freed as well. They all stood there and look at the officers carry Dana out.

"What do you think she would have chosen? I mean, if Lestrade hadn't come." John asked.

"To her, there was only one considerable option. It only took her so long to decide because she knew both choices would cause separating from us all." Mycroft said in concern, and Sherlock frowned.

"Are you coming? We need your testimony." Lestrade called out, and the three men walked in silence to him.

"I hate policemen. I really do." she said angrily as she finally entered the flat. The three men waited there for her.

"Why did they let you go?" John asked, and as the brothers looked at him angrily, he added: "I'm glad you're back and everything, of course, but they seem pretty certain you were the one to… Kidnap us."

"Well, after I've argued with Donovan for ages she asked Anderson to replace her, and after I've irritated him as much as I could, they brought a polygraph, and as the results showed that I'm telling the truth, I simply got up and left. Not before informing Lestrade about the affair the two are having, of course."

Sherlock laughed and got up to kiss her. The whole play Moriarty out on had surprisingly made her stronger, and she was herself once more, as if she had never left.

Mycroft, on the other hand, didn't share his brother's feelings. He was concerned about the ease it was to capture him. All it took was a distraction – and by meeting her for lunch he arranged one for himself. He had always thought he was strong, that he was above all of that, but this had showed him how vulnerable he had become for a girl who was no longer his, and he did not like it.

Sherlock scratched his hand, a bit hyper, and looked around nervously.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she asked.

"Before you've arrived we decided he needs to stop with the cigarettes." John explained.

"Yeah, stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" he asked.

"Yours." Mycroft said with a small humourless smile. Dana laughed.

"I'll keep your mind of it." she smiled and kissed him gently. Sherlock wasn't satisfied with one kiss: he kissed her again and again, for he had missed her so much for so long.

"Well," Mycroft said and cleared his throat awkwardly, "I think I'll be off now." he got up from his seat.

"Alright. Bye, Mycroft." she said. He smiled joylessly and walked to the door.

"Mycroft!" she called to him just before he left. He turned to her.

"I'm sorry."

After a few seconds, he answered.

"Not as much as I am. For what you had to do." he said and left, and Dana's face became a bit darker. John didn't understand why, but Sherlock remembered, of course. These were the exact same words they said to each other when they broke up. Except for the last part of his sentence. Sherlock knew she had loved him, but there was still an unsolved feeling between them.

"Didn't you say something about distracting me?" he asked her with a questioning face, and as she laughed he joined her laughter.

"I think you'll do fine on your own." John said and sighed, but the couple was too busy in kissing instead of listening to him. It was still strange to him to see him in such a close relationship with someone.

"I'm leaving." he said again, trying to win some of their attention, but failed to receive any.

"Bye." he said and then officially left, as they continued to ignore him.

"Finally, some privacy." he murmured to her and smiled.

"I have an idea for what we can do now. Come on, try to deduce it out of me." she said playfully. After a moment she asked: "Any ideas?"

"Just one." He said quietly, and surprisingly picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

"John, I need some. _Get me_ some."

"No." he answered calmly.

"Get me some." he said again, this time more intensely.

"No. Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what." he answered louder and pointed sternly at him.

"Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius will sell you any."

Sherlock ignored him and started hurling paperwork off the table as he desperately searched for what he needs.

"Dana!" he called out.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now."  
"Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." Sherlock said frantically as he continued his search.

"Please." he asked again, with a begging look and a low voice.

"What's going on?" Dana asked as she came. She was wearing one of his shirts again, and John tried hard not to think about its meaning.

"He's out for the cigarettes again." John said tiredly.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." he said, ignoring her.

John chuckled.

"Oh, it was worth a try." Sherlock said exasperated. Then he noticed Dana's presence in the room.

"I'll tell you what film always makes Mycroft cry." he said to her desperately.

"He _cried_?!" she asked in surprise.

"Every single time."

"God, I do not want to know that. She's _not_ telling you where it is, anyway."

Sherlock sighed angrily.

"I need a case!" he shouted frantically and sat heavily on the chair.

"You've just solved one!" John answered, equally loudly.

"That was this morning!"

"Wait, what? For how long have you been awake?" she asked irritated. Since they became officially together, he hadn't led her participate in his work anymore.

"Oh, for a while now, didn't want to wake you up." he said dismissingly.

"Well, you should have." she still sounded irritated.

"Nothing on the website?" John changed the subject."

Sherlock got up and walked over to the table, collected his laptop and handed it to John, who looked at the message on there while Sherlock stomped over the window and narrated part of it.  
"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?"  
"Bluebell?"  
"A rabbit, John!"  
"Oh."  
"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous," he said sarcastically and adopted a little girl's voice for the next words, "'like a fairy' according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry..."

He stopped and his expression became more intense.

"Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?" she asked in shock.

"It's this, or Cluedo." he said, clearly referring to John

"Ah, no!"

He closed the laptop and got up to put it back on the table.

"We are never playing that again!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."

"Well, it was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules." He said and sat down again.

"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock answered furiously.

The doorbell rang.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

"Client." the men said simultaneously.

"So you are going?" asked Henry Knight in confusion.

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Sherlock answered in excitement.

"Sounds promising. When are we leaving?" Dana asked.

"_We_ are leaving in a moment. _You_, on the other hand, are staying here."

"Wait, _what_?!" she asked in surprise and anger. "Of course I am going, you're not my boss."

"But I am. You're my intern, remember? And you could always quit, but if you do, it would be very inappropriate if you'll take part in future inquiries."

Dana looked at him with disbelief. He had been to over-protecting since she was back, just like Mycroft. She sighed.

"Fine. Go ahead. In one condition."

"And what is that condition?" Sherlock asked with a teasing smile.

"We're playing Cluedo when you're back." she answered, equally smiling.

"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since nineteen eighty-two. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact." Lestrade said at the press conference. Sherlock, John and Dana stood nearby.

"Sarcasm."

"Yes."

"That is very mature of him." she said to them, equally sarcastic.

As the press applauded, Greg walked over to Sherlock and gave him a gift-wrapped package, smiling cheerfully.

"We all chipped in." he said.

Sherlock tore the paper and pulled out a deerstalking hat.

"Oh!" he said, trying to smile.

"Put the hat on!" said a few journalists.

"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Lestrade said amused.

Glowering at him, Sherlock shoved the wrapping paper into John's, then unhappily put the hat on his head. Flashbulbs went mad and everyone applauded. He heard Dana's laughter, and found out a way to make the situation a bit more fun.

"Well, I couldn't have done this without my girlfriend, of course." he said and put his arm around Dana and brought her more forward on the stage, while she had a very surprised look. "She deserves this gift more than I do." He said cheerfully, and he took of the hat and put it on her head. Everyone applauded again, and countless pictures were taken, as Dana faked a smile and constantly whispered threats to Sherlock, whose smile grew bigger with every word that she said. John rolled his eyes behind them. He knew the fame would only hurt Sherlock, but he couldn't get him to see it as well.

John stared at his best friend's body, as people carried it away. He fell to his knees. He wanted to be alone, to mourn. Or to cry. Or best - find out that somehow, Sherlock is still breathing, his heart still beating.

He just couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

He was too shocked and overwhelmed by every single emotion he could have sensed, he had completely forgotten he wasn't the only one Sherlock had left behind. And that other person knew how to track down his phone, since he wasn't answering it.

He heard a car door being slammed.

"John! Is everything alright? Why are you sitting down like that?" her voice called from a distance. He could hear her quick steps getting closer and closer, but he was too weak to get up.

"John, what is this? Is this… _blood_?!" she finally understood and ran to him.

"John, are you ok –" she asked, and then she saw what he was looking at.

She screamed. It wasn't a regular scared scream, but it was a sad one, as sad as it could get. It was full of grief, sorrow and agony. All the people around the body turned to look at her, but she didn't even notice their presence. Two people, a man and a woman, or two men, she hadn't quite noticed, caught her and held her so she won't get to near to him. She shook them away, without removing her gaze from Sherlock, and ran to him. She bent down beside him, and her hand was shaking as she touched his cheek. John put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, but she didn't seem to feel it. In fact, she didn't move. Not a bit. Just stared at Sherlock lying still on the ground, with her hand on his bloody cheek.

"Dana?" he asked quietly, and as he thought, she didn't response.

"Dana? Dana, listen to me." He said more loudly, but she still didn't move. People lifted his body and put it on a stretcher, and her hand moved with it as if it was attached to him.

"Dana. Dana!" he was shouting now, but she didn't even blink. The people started lifting the stretcher, and she didn't remove her hand. She was in some sort of a trance, and she didn't seem to be aware of what was going on.

"Dana, _listen to me!_" he shouted even louder, and he pulled her hand away from his cheek. Her gaze moved to his face, but it was still different. There was still something strange about it. Sherlock used to say, and it hurt John deeply to use the word 'said', that people see instead of observe. And she was doing neither. Her eyes were in front of him, but they didn't really see. John kept talking to her, but she didn't seem to notice he was. John desperately held her hands in his and pressed them, and she didn't react.

This was her official breakdown.

The last straw that led all of her sanity drift away, and all she had left was her madness.

No way to express her feeling,

And no one to share them with.


	2. Chapter 2

"We are obviously looking at suicide" said Dimmock.

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." Agreed John.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" asked Dimmock, clearly confused. "The wound was on the right side of his head." Explained Sherlock

"And?" asked Dimmock once more, still confused. "Van Coon was left-handed." Said the detective, as if it's obvious.

He pretended to try and shoot himself in the right side of his head with her left hand. "Requires quite a bit of contortion." "Left-handed?" Dimmock didn't see how he got to that conclusion. "Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." He said in a sarcastically surprised tone. He pointed to the table beside the sofa. "Coffee table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left, pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. Do you want me to go on?" Sherlock explained, while John tried to understand how the hell did Sherlock notice that, and the mystery woman just looked at the detective with a lack of surprise.

"No, I think you've covered it." Said John tiredly.

"Oh, I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list." Sherlock said.

He opened his mouth to continue, but the woman suddenly started talking.

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's very unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in his right side of the head."

"Who is she?" asked Dimmock, clearly annoyed that Sherlock is not the only one who had noticed all those facts. Before any of the men could answer, she finally introduced herself.

"I'm Dana. Dana Scott. I'm Mr. Holmes's intern… Sort of."

Both Sherlock and John were surprised by this introduction. They hadn't thought she'll tell her name so lightly, as if they're friends, or as if she really is his intern. Sherlock thought for a second about hiring an intern, while John thought that if she's an intern, what does that make him?

"And what, is he paying to help him? Is this some kind of a part-time job?" Dimmock asked, clearly misunderstanding why anyone would choose to willingly be around Sherlock.

"Not exactly. I'm paid with information. I want to learn the he thinks, try to see the things he sees, notice the things he notices. The world has one consulting detective – I would like to be the second one."

They were all surprised by her explanation, Sherlock the most. He wasn't sure if he wanted someone else to be a consulting detective as well, but he did like the idea of having an intern. He had finally found someone who observes, and not just _sees_.


	3. Chapter 3

John had left to a job interview, so Dana and Sherlock were left alone in the flat. They were both looking at the photographs, trying to learn something more from them. Sherlock sat, as usual, straight on the chair, with his hands tight together under his chin, as if he's praying. Dana's fingers integrated, as if she's praying as well, and her head rested on them. They were both silent and still. John walked in and dropped his coat on a chair.

"I said, can you pass me a pen?" said Sherlock, as if it was a part of a previous conversation.

John looked around, as if there was someone else in the room he could have been talking to. Dana was still silent, so he assumed he didn't talk to her.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Why – there's a pen right next to her!" John said and pointed at the pen beside Dana.

"He did ask you, you know." she said without looking at him, like Sherlock.

John looked at her with his eyebrows lifted, partly annoyed by her comment. He picked up a pen and threw it to Sherlock without looking at him. He caught it without turning his head from the photos.

"Here, have a look." He called John.

John walked over to the table and looked at the web page on the open computer. The lead article on the 'Online News' page is headlined, "Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police". Next to it is a photograph of a bald man, and the article reads: An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in...

"The intruder who can walk through walls." quoted John.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon."

John straightened up and looked at his flat mate.

"God. You think..."

"He's killed another one." said Sherlock heavily.

There was a beep from an unknown phone.

"Could you pass me my phone please, Dr. Watson?" she said.

John went over to where her phone was. She got a text message. John read it.

_When are you coming over? Is everything OK? _

_MH_

John was shocked. He picked up the phone and walked towards them both. Dana was still staring quietly at the photos, so he turned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock…" he said and showed him the message.

Sherlock was angry and confused, but most of all disappointed. He now knew where did she knew him from, and who taught her to think like that. He thought she actually wants to be his intern, when all she was is just another woman Mycroft sent to sniff around. He instantly got up, took a couple of steps towards her, and stood in front of her so she can't see the photographs. Just then she noticed what's going on, and as soon as she did Sherlock pushed his arm on her neck and pushed her head back, so she won't choke but also won't breathe freely. He didn't estimate her strength correctly, so she _was _choking. Yet she didn't move or resist, just looked at him with widened eyes.

"Were you sent to spy on me?" he put her phone in front of her. As she didn't answer, he pushed his hand harder on her neck and raised his voice.

"Did Mycroft send you to spy on me?!"

She gasped and tried to breathe.

"No!" she whispered, since she didn't have enough air to speak louder.

"What are you doing here then? What's your connection to him?!" he pushed his hands even harder, and her eyes widened even more, and she continued to gasp, trying not to choke.

"Sherlock..." John tried to calm him. He really thought he might choke her to death if he won't get the answer he wants.

"I'm his girlfriend!" she answered, fighting to pronounce each word.

Sherlock straightened up quickly then, and removed his arm from her neck. She bent down and coughed. His face could not reveal his feeling, but John's face easily could. He was clearly surprised, even shocked. Neither expected that answer.

"Oh. Quite an age difference." said Sherlock coldly.

"Perhaps, but our meeting was quite… unusual, you may say." she said, hoarse, and coughed.

Her phone rang.

"I should get that. He gets worried too quickly."

John handed her the phone, still shocked. He honestly didn't see Mycroft as the person to have a girlfriend… Well, like her.

"Hello?" she answered him quietly. Mycroft was, as she suspected, worried, so he talked loudly. Loudly enough for Sherlock and John to hear him.

"_Where are you? Is everything ok? You didn't answer my message_."

"I know, I'm a bit busy over here. Can we continue this later?" she said, clearing her throat to not sound as hoarse as she is.

"_Are you cold? Your voice sounds different_."

"No, I'm perfectly fine."

"_It's late. I'm coming to pick you up_."

"I have feet of my own you know."

"_I don't care. Give me the address._"

"There's no point in trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?"

"_No. Now what's the address_?"

She paused for a moment.

"_Dana? Are you there? What's the address_?"

"two-two-one-B Baker Street." She said quietly.

He hung up.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breathe.

"What are the odds he would just not come?" she asked worriedly, her eyes still closed.

"Zero." Answered Sherlock, since it was clear her question was meant to him.

"Oh god."

She got up and smoothed her clothes. Then she stood in front of the mirror and fixed her hair. She stretched out to take a look at her neck. She turned it to different angles to make sure there isn't any bruise on it. She looked at them both.

"Well, if he's mad as I think he is, and he _is_, then he probably took a cab as soon as he hung up. He had paid extra just make the cabbie go as fast as he can. There isn't much traffic now. So unfortunately, I have to leave now. Please let me know if you found something out, and tell me what time are we leaving tomorrow."

She walked over to the door, and just as she starting walking someone starting banging loudly on the door. She opened it and Mycroft stormed in. He looked at Sherlock, then at John, then at Sherlock again. He turned to her sharply.

"You said you're going to work for someone now. To be his _intern_."

"Well, I am." she said calmly.

"To my brother?!" he yelled and gestured him with his left hand, "And you didn't think of telling me?!"

"Well, I don't see what it has to with you. It's my job."

"And it's _my_ brother! I know him better than you! You could have gotten hurt!"

"Mycroft…" Sherlock tried to calm him.

"Don't you dare talk now." He turned to him and stood in front of him. "How could you hire her? She's no help to you!"

"_Excuse me?!_" she shouted at him with a surprise and hurt tone. "I happen to be quite clever, just so you know. I'm not 'just a lady', and if that's what you think of me I may not be 'just your girlfriend' anymore."

"No, Dana, I didn't mean it that way. Hey…" he walked to her and held both her hands in his.

She pulled her hands to her angrily.

"This is _my_ life, and _I _will be the one to choose who I will work for. And I choose Mr. Holmes. Is that clear?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but Sherlock interrupted.

"'Mr. Holmes'?" he asked in a surprised tone and pulled his eyebrows up.

"Well, you didn't expect me to call you Sherlock, didn't you? You're my employer, after all." She answered and looked at him over Mycroft's hand.

"There's no point in trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?" he said, defeated.

"No, there isn't." she half-smiled. She liked the way he quoted her.

"After you." he gestured to the door, and she went out. He took one step towards the door, then hesitated a moment. He turned around and went to Sherlock. He stood in front of him, far too close in Sherlock's opinion.

"If you make _one_ move on her…" and he left.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft opened the door for her. She smiled and walked inside the house. He entered after her and shut the wooden door behind him. She had always liked his flat. The wooden furniture, the lovely fireplace and the large television in front of the couch. She turned to him and kissed him lightly. They both smiled.

"You're not mad I'm your brother's intern, right?"

"You could just call him Sherlock, you know."

"I can't. He's my employer, and I should respect him by calling him by his last name."

"Respect him…" he mumbled and looked away.

"Yes, respect him. Because you got to admit – no matter how much you two hate each other, he is _brilliant._"

"I'm taking you there tomorrow."

"No, you are not." She laughed humourlessly and walked away from him, her back turned to him. He turned around to look at her, yet didn't ask her to turn around.

"Yes, I am. This wasn't a suggestion, it was a fact. If you want to work for him, my only condition it that I will take you over there and back here every day."

He waited for a few moments. Then she turned sharply to him.

"I think I know what all of this is about. You're mad because I didn't ask you to be my employer, aren't you?" she walked closer to him. He just looked at her, not answering. She didn't need an answer.

"Look, this isn't about you. If you would have done what Sherlock does, then of course I'd be your intern." He wasn't convinced. She now stood very close to him.

"Besides," she said quietly, "I couldn't possibly be your intern _and_ your girlfriend. It would be… _inappropriate._" She kissed him, and he was now convinced. He kissed her hardly back, and she laughed. He was kissing her so hard she had to walk backwards so she wouldn't fall. They were kissing passionately, and when she reached the couch, they both fell on it, both laughing, still kissing.


	5. Chapter 5

A knock on the door. John went over to the door and opened it, and Sherlock got up from his chair.

"I did not invite him." Dana said as she entered. Right behind her was Mycroft, who followed her like a body-guard.

"Me neither." said Sherlock.

"Well, aren't you all sweet." said Mycroft sarcastically.

"I got your text. You said you've figured it out." she said, ignoring him.

"We have." Sherlock said without explaining.

"Well?"

He just looked at her without saying a word. After a few moments she understood what he means.

"Goodbye, darling, I'll see you again tonight." she said to Mycroft, her eyes not moving from Sherlock's. When she saw Mycroft isn't going anywhere, she went to him and kissed him shortly.

"Go now. I'll be fine."

"Give me a call when you want to go home." he said and still didn't move.

"You have to go in order to pick me up later, you know."

"All right, I'm going. Take care."

She smiled a clearly fake smile, as she opened the door for him. After she closed it behind him, her face turned serious again.

"So what is it?"

"It's an ancient number system. Hangzhou." said Sherlock.

"The numbers in the bank were fifteen and one." continued John, more enthusiastically.

"It's a code, based upon a book. Yet we don't know which one. The code belongs to a Chinese criminal organization, more of a cult, the Black Lotus. We got that information from a woman called Soo Ling Yao, who used to work for it with her brother, but he was corrupted by one of its leaders."

"General Shan." added John.

"Yes. The numbers are references to books. To specific pages and specific words in those pages, to be correct."

"Right. So fifteen and one. That means…" she tried to follow.

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."

"Okay, so what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned." said Sherlock. Dana looked round despairingly at the many crates in the room, each either labeled "Van Coon" or "Lukis". "Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?" she said desperately.

John walked in the room, after changing to clean clothes. Dana and Sherlock were sitting there, still looking at books.

"I need some air. We're going out tonight." said Sherlock.

"Where are we going?" Dana said without raising her look from the book she was holding. Both men looked at her. They did not include her in their plans. Sherlock handed John a piece of paper. John took it and looked at the piece of paper, which is the strip of poster that Sherlock tore off the wall during the search for the yellow paint. The poster advertised the Yellow Dragon Circus and gives the telephone number of the Box Office.

"In London for one night only."

John looked at him with disbelief, and then looked at Dana, who half smiled, amused by John reaction.


	6. Chapter 6

"You can call Mycroft now." Sherlock said coldly. They were back in the flat again, back from the 'circus'.

"No, I think I'll stick around a little longer. It's not like we've solved it." She initially used the word 'we', to highlight the fact she's a part of their 'team'.

"Anyone fancies something to eat?" she asked, looking at John. He, of course, was starving. Being around Sherlock had made him lose a lot of weigh, since he was barely ever eating. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was almost empty apart from a couple of bottles, a can, and what might well be an eyeball. He sighed and closed the fridge.

Instead of simply waiting for John to find something to eat, she went over to where Sherlock was sitting.

"So each pair of numbers is a word."

"Exactly." said Sherlock tightly.

"And the first two words are 'nine' and 'mill'."

Sherlock's head lifted up slowly.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, two words have already been translated, here. Did you not see this before?" She pointed at the picture down on the desk. Sherlock took the photo from her and stared at it.

"John."

"Mmm?"

He looked round from the kitchen table.

"John, look at this." said Sherlock as he stood up. He took the photo out of the evidence bag as John came out of the kitchen.

"Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!"

Written in fine pen, a word has been written across each of the first two sets of symbols on the photograph. Sherlock read them out. "'NINE' 'MILL'."

"Does that mean 'millions'?" John said and squinted at the photo.

"Nine million quid. For what?" the detective said thoughtfully. He turned and went over to where he dumped his coat and scarf.

"We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" Dana asked.

"To the museum, to the restoration room." He answered as he wore his scarf. He grimaced in exasperation at himself.

"Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At-at what?" John still didn't understand.

"The book, John. The book – the key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this! While we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."

And after saying that, he hurried out.


	7. Chapter 7

John woke up. His head was hurt. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was at some kind of a tunnel. His wrists hurt him. He tried to pull them to him, but he couldn't. He sat on some sort of chair, and his hands were tied behind his back. Dana was sitting next to him, saying something quietly through a gag in her mouth. She looked scared, but not as terrified as he expected her to be. The opera singer from the circus was there. They both looked at her. John looked at her with confusion, but Dana's eyes widened. Not with fear, but with understanding. She saw something John didn't, and he wondered what it is.

"'A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket.' She paused for a moment. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

John looked at her, startled.

"I… I'm not Sherlock Holmes."

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it." she said and smiled humourlessly. John looked at Dana helplessly. She looked forward, staring at the air, and looked like she's either about to laugh or to cry. He wasn't sure if he should be offended she thought it is amusing that he was mistaken to be Sherlock. She continues to argue with John about why they 'know' he's Sherlock, but Dana didn't listen. She just stared. She found the situation exciting, interesting. But then she thought of Mycroft. What would he do if anything bad happens to her? Will he be sad? Angry? One thing she knew for sure – He'll blame Sherlock for it, and the last thing she wanted was to cause more fights between the two. She wondered if he'll cry over her. But then she heard a gun and suddenly became aware of what's going on again.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" Shan said as she pointed a pistol to his head. He cringed away from it, holding in a panic breathe. Shan grinned. Dana understood now why Sherlock had described her in such an... Intimidating way. Shan lifted her other hand and cocked the pistol. John whispered "don't, don't", and he struggles against his bonds. Dana then became truly scared. She really did fear for his life. John breathed out heavily as her finger tightened on the trigger. John stared into the barrel of the gun, his face full of terror as she pulled the trigger all the way. The gun clicked. John grunted in shock, and Shan smiled smugly.

It tells you that they're not really trying."" John breathed heavily, trying to get control of himself. Dana let out the air she was holding in relief.

"Not blank bullets now."

That sentence annoyed Dana for some reason. They weren't blank bullets before - that gun was _empty_.

"Okay." John said breathily.

"If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive."

She looked at him sternly.

"Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." she said and turned away.

She looked at her men who stood there and simply looked intimidating so far. He pulled the cover off a large object to reveal the crossbow which was used at the circus. An arrow was already loaded in it. John stared at it and sighed deeply. Shan turned back to him.

"Everything in the West has its price. And the price for _her_ life..."

John turns and stared at Dana.

"...information."

The two men walked over and picked up Dana's chair. Her eyes widened, this time with fear, and she tried to free her hands.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." said John anguished, under his breath.

The men set the chair down on the other side of the crossbow, putting Sarah facing the arrow tip and directly in line with it. She stared at it, breathing heavily and tugging in vain at the ropes tying her to the chair. Shan glared down at John.

"Where's the hairpin?"

"What?" he said, tugging at his own bonds in spite of the pistol aimed at him.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching." "Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for." "I need a volunteer from the audience!" she said loudly. "No, please. _Please_." John said desperately, as if she'll listen to him. "Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely." Shan said and walked towards Dana. Dana tried to say something through her gag, tugging desperately at her ropes. Shan smiled, took out a knife and reached up to the sandbag suspended over a pulley hanging from the ceiling. She stabbed the knife into the bag and sand began to pour out. Dana continued to struggle at her bonds as John sighed out an appalled breath and stared up at the bag in horror. Shan smiled and looked around at her audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act."

"Please!"

Shan walked over to Dana and placed a black origami lotus flower on her lap.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.

"_I'm not Sherlock Holmes_!" he said frantically once more.

"I don't believe you." Shan said once more.

"You should, you know." said a familiar voice.

Shan spinned around as a familiar silhouette appeared at the far end of the tunnel.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Sherlock said.

Shan raised her pistol, cocked it and aims it towards him. He immediately dodged to the side of the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. One of Shan's thugs started to hurry towards the end of the tunnel.

"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" said Sherlock's from the darkness, as John sighed out a half-relieved, half-exasperated breath.

"Late?" said John tetchily. Dana frowned at him and gave him an angry look of 'Really? Are you really joking about this now?'. John was surprised by her anger. Being angry requires a certain amount of calmness, which he did not understand how she had.

Only she wasn't calm. She wasn't calm at all. Her mind was sharp, yes, but her heart was racing. She had only feared like this once before in her life, and it wasn't anything she liked to think of.

Everything happened quickly then. Sherlock tried to untie her bonds several times, and got strangled several times. The men fought, but all Dana could see in the sand flowing out of the bag, every second bringing her death closer and closer. John tried to get up and walk, tied to his chair, but her fell down. Just a second before the arrow was released he managed to push the crossbow with his leg. The arrow was shot and it hit the man who was fighting Sherlock. The man fell down and Sherlock straightened up and grunted. They heard distant running footsteps, and Sherlock looked around and searched for their source, but distracted by Dana's breathings. She wasn't sobbing, not even crying, but she was breathing heavily. She looked down to the floor and simply breathed. Sherlock dropped to his knees beside her.

"It's alright." he said soothingly.

He untied her gag and took it from her mouth.

"You're gonna be alright. It's over now. It's over." he said softly and stroked his hands comfortingly down her arms. Then he bent over and untied her bonds.


	8. Chapter 8

The three entered the flat. Sherlock first, and Dana next, with John holding her arm and half-leading half-pushing her in the flat. She felt dizzy after she got up from the chair in the tunnel, and John suspected she may have got a concussion. She refused to get checked, though, but she asked him to help her walk straight. John led her to the couch, where she sat down heavily.

"Where's my phone? It's late now. Mycroft must be worried."

John quickly got her phone and handed it over to her.

"Thanks." She said quietly, almost whispering.

"Great. Nine missed calls."

She dialed a number quickly and waited for an answer. It took him less than 3 seconds to answer. And again, he spoke loudly because he was worried. Dana thought it was nice that he worried about her all the time. Sherlock found it annoying.

_"Dana? Are you alright? It's late already, and you haven't answered my calls._"

"I'm fine. Sorry I haven't answered, I was out and didn't take my phone with me."

"_Come home now. Please. It's late and you know I get worried easily. If you don't want me to come and take you it's fine, but just come."_

"Actually, I do need you to come and rent me a cab. I think I lost my wallet."

_"What? How did you lose your wallet? Did my brother take it?"_

"It has nothing to do with Mr. Holmes. You see, Chinese kidnappers usually don't make sure you have all your personal belongings on you when they come."

"_Chi-Chinese kidnappers?!"_ he said, furious. After a moment he said, clearly holding his anger back: "_I'm on my way."_

Mycroft really was furious. He hated when Dana got in trouble. She had managed to stay clear of it for a very long while lately, but now she got into in again. He knew he couldn't blame her – she was always attracted to this sort of things. But he did know who to blame. If she hadn't joined Sherlock none of this would have happened. She would have been _safe_.

She hung up the call.

"Is it always like that?" she asked and cleaned her throat.

"What is?" John asked softly.

"Being around Mr. Holmes. Is it always so… _Exciting_?"

He smiles humourlessly.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Good." she said and nodded without looking at him.

"Good?!" John was surprised. He expected her to be scared, confused. He thought she'll resign from her internship as soon as they're home, but she said '_good_'.

Someone knocked on the door. John went to open it, and Mycroft stormed in. Ignoring both John and his brother, he went straight to Dana. He kneed in front of her and held her by the arms with both hands.

"Are you ok? Did you get hurt? I swear, if anyone had harmed you in any way I'll…"

"I'm fine, Mycroft. Everything's fine. Calm down."

"Calm down?!" he said angrily and got up. "How do you expect me to calm down, when I just find out my girlfriend was kidnapped because she chose to work for the wrong man!"

"This is not his fault."

"Isn't-Isn't his fault?! So you just happened to be kidnapped two days after you started working for him?!"

She didn't answer.

"Speaking of which, say goodbye, because you are not going to keep working for him."

"You're overreacting."

"_Overreacting_?! You were _kidnapped_, Dana!"

She got up and faced him.

"Look, I know you're trying to keep me safe, but I'm _fine_! Besides, it's not like I'm asking for your permission to be his intern."

"You did so well lately. Didn't get involved in anything." he lowered his voice, speaking more softly now.

"And I _miss it_, Mycroft. I miss it. I know that of all people I should be the last to like this, but I do. You know I do. And working for your brother is a great opportunity for me, and I'm not going to miss it just because you're worried about me. I'm not a child. I can take care of myself."

Sherlock and John both looked at them. John had a strange feeling. She was too similar to someone he already knew – to himself. She, for some reason, had to make herself keep out of trouble, and she missed it. And now, when she got a chance to work with Sherlock, she can finally get in it again. Feel the fear, and excitement. Just like he had missed the war, she missed what-ever trouble she was in. And they were both strangely loyal to Sherlock. She first met him a day ago, and she won't let Mycroft say one bad thing about him. He didn't seem to find the reason for it. Is it admiration? Appreciation? Or is she just trying to upset Mycroft?

"Let's go home. We'll continue this argument there." he said, defeated.

"There is no argument, and there's nothing to continue. I'm Mr. Holmes's intern, and you better understand that, because it's not going to change."

Without waiting for an answer, she walked to the door. She looked back and half-smiled to John. He was confused by this gesture, and the corners of his mouth formed an awkward smile. She chuckled and walked out. Mycroft rolled his eyes and followed her. This surprised Sherlock – he had known his brother his entire life, and was always a control-freak. He always had to be the one who's pulling the strings, who's making the decisions. There could be only two reasons for why he had let her make all of the decisions – he is either madly in love with her, or there is a deeper, more important reason, why he lets her choose. And Sherlock knew his brother isn't capable of such deep love.

"What do you think it is?" Sherlock asked, his eyes still on the door, now closed.

"What are you talking about?" John obviously didn't understand what he is talking about.

"What is it about her that makes my brother so… _Weak_?"

"Well, maybe he's in love."

Sherlock didn't answer. He just stood there and looked at the door.


	9. Chapter 9

John walked down Baker Street. He was heading home now. Just when he was in front of the door, a taxi pulled over in front of it.

"Dr. Watson!"

He turned around. It was obviously Dana, coming to see if there are any cases she can help with. She smiled and walked towards him. He half-smiled to her. He was surprised by the warmness of her smile.

"Should we go inside?" she asked.

"After you." he opened the door for her. Her smile came up again and she walked inside. John walked in after her and closed the door behind him.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"Well, I am. I had a great night, you see. Haven't slept so well in ages."

He was not expecting this answer. He himself slept awfully - his head still hurt him. He opened his mouth to answer her, but then they heard two gunshots ring out, and they ran upstairs to the flat. John opened the door and put both his hands on his ears, since another shot was fired. It was Sherlock who was firing those shots. He was shooting a smiley face sprayed with yellow paint on the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Bored." Sherlock said sulkily.

"What?" John squinted at him is disbelief.

"Bored!" he said, more loudly this time, and sprang off the chair he was sitting on. John immediately covered his ears.

"No…"

Sherlock switched the gun to his right hand and shot the face twice.

"Bored! Bored!" he said once more, this time angrily.

Dana went to him and took the pistol out of his hand. He walked towards the sofa. He half-crashed half-lied on it.

"Don't know what's got into criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." He said sulkily.

"So you take it out on the wall."

"Ah, the wall had is coming." he said and closed his eyes. John looked at him. He couldn't understand how he could be _that_ bored. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Both men jumped and looked at Dana, who was holding the pistol aimed to the face on the wall. She hit it between the eyes. John looked at her with shock.

"What do you think you're doing?!" John said and he went to her and grabbed the pistol of her hand.

"I'm his intern. And as his intern, I'm supposed to learn from him. So I did."

John looked at her with disbelief. Sherlock then started chuckling, and Dana quickly joined him. The chuckling soon became laughter, and the two laughed – at John's look, at her learning habits. John tried to get in their head – to understand how they see this situation funny. Maybe, he thought, she's not like him as he thought.

"Anything to eat? I'm starving." John said and went to the fridge. He opened it, and immediately closed it.

"Oh f…"

He opened it again and looked inside. There was a head inside.

"There's a head. A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks." Dana called to him. She was smiling a bit.

"No, there's a head in the fridge. A _head_, Sherlock."

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"Why do you-"

"Don't ask. If you want to eat something today, don't ask. Believe me. It'll ruin your appetite." she warned him.

John rolled his eyes.

"Is there anything to do here? At all?" she asked Sherlock.

"Nothing. Everything it peaceful, and quiet, and calm. Isn't that awful?"

"As awful as it is, it's actually good. That means I'll have more time getting ready for tonight."

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"What's happening tonight?" asked John.

"An old friend of Mycroft is getting married tonight, and I haven't even picked a dress, or shoes, or anything at all…"

Sherlock groaned and closed his eyes again. He was hoping for something more interesting.

"Dr. Waston, as unprofessional as it is – are you busy today? Because I really need someone to come with me and help me find a dress, and Mycroft is busy at work. He barely got the night off. And I can't possibly go shopping alone. Besides, it's not like you have something better to do."


	10. Chapter 10

Dana went out of the dressing room for the tenth time. John and Sherlock were sitting in front of it. John tried to give an honest opinion about each of the dresses, while Sherlock just stared at the other girls in the store. He was deducing them, obviously. He couldn't just sit there and let his brain rest.

"So, how do I look?" she asked once more.

Truth to be told, John thought, she was beautiful. Particularly in this dress. It was tight in the upper part of her body, and was more loose from her thighs.

"This one. Definitely this one."

"Dr. Watson, you said the same thing about the previous dress. And the one before it."

"No, this one is definitely the prettiest." John hoped this would help her finally pick a dress so they can leave. Dana smoothed her dress and looked at herself in the mirror.

"What do you think, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, still looking at her reflection. He looked at her briefly and then looked away again.

"This one doesn't fatten your hips like the blue one did."

"Sherlock…" John castigated him. He thought she might be offended by this supposedly-compliment.

"That's what I thought. Glad to see I'm not the only one who noticed that." she looked at her reflection with satisfaction. "I think I'll go for this one."

"Oh, that's great. So you go change and I'll put all those dresses back." John said, relieved that they can finally leave. He quickly picked up all the dresses and left. Dana went in to change.

"Mr. Holmes, can you unzip me, please? I'm afraid I can't reach it."

He reluctantly got up and went in to her changing cell. He put his left hand on her back and she shivered.

"Anything wrong?"

"Your hands are cold."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

He took the zipper with his right hand and pulled it down. He did it slowly, for some reason.

"Done."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

He stood there, still looking at her back.

"Now, do you mind stepping outside so I can change?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

He walked stiffly out. John was surprised to see him coming out of there. He gave Sherlock a confused look.

"She asked me to unzip her."

"That's what I thought."

She got out, dressed up, with the dress in her hand.

"Done. Now we just need to pay for it. Don't dory, Dr. Watson, Mycroft gave me his wallet. You don't have to pay a pound on it."

"Oh, good."

They paid for the dress, far too much in John's opinion, and they separated – Dana went to Mycroft's office to return him his wallet, and the men went to the apartment. Just as John closed the door behind him, he received a text:

_In case you didn't understand yet, this is me officially inviting you to the wedding. Wear something nice. _

_DS_

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a suit?"


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock and John stood in the middle of the crowd, who were all happily talking, some occasionally hugged each other. John was wearing a nice black suit, and Sherlock wore his long black coat, his blue scarf, and his regular pants. John looked at him with disbelief.

"I thought you said you have a suit."

"I did."

"Then why…" he sighed and didn't bother to continue the sentence. They looked to the door and saw familiar faces walk inside. They went towards them. Mycroft wore a dark-gray suit and a red tie, which matched Dana's dress perfectly. It was very obvious she was the one to pick it out for him. Sherlock scanned her. She was wearing that red dress from the store, but now it looked much more beautiful. Alongside with her half-curly brown hair, her bright blue eyes, her diamond earrings and her silver heels, she was truly breathe-taking. And it disturbed Sherlock, for some reason, he thought that way. He frowned.

"Anything wrong, Mr. Holmes?" she asked. Just then he had noticed he was staring at her.

"No. Nothing at all."

"Good. So if you don't mind, we'll go to congratulate the happy couple, and we'll catch up with you later." she took a few steps, and then looked back to Sherlock. "Couldn't you at least change your clothes?" without waiting for an answer, they walked away. Sherlock looked at Mycroft. He seemed strangely happy. Every time he smiled, it was after Dana smiled. He really did love her, and it felt strange for Sherlock to admit it.

This part of the night passed quickly for Sherlock, for he hadn't paid any attention to what was happening around him at all. Instead, he deduced every single person in the room. He found pet-owners, cheaters, ones who are jealous of the bride, and ones who are jealous of the groom. He paid extra attention to the women. He thought it would be nice if John left the night with a date that is not too dumb. He found twenty women who came alone. Ten of them hoped to go home with someone. Three of them seemed intelligent. One of them was good-looking.

"Go for the girl with the purple dress that's currently talking to woman dressed in pink." he said quietly to John.

"What?"

"If you want to end the night with a girl, go for that girl."

John looked around quickly to look for her. When he found her, he got up and went to talk to her. Sherlock followed him with his eyes. They started talking, and the woman seemed to enjoy the conversation. In minutes he had made her laugh, even though his jokes weren't funny at all.

Then they started playing music, and the new couple had their first dance. In minutes they put up the tempo, and people started dancing. After a few looks, Mycroft reluctantly got up and went to dance with Dana, who of course persuaded him to do so. John danced with the woman in the purple dress. Sherlock went to sit by the bar, where the desperate girls won't come and try to start a conversation, like one did before. He got himself a glass of ale, and drank it slowly, in complete boredom. He regretted he came. John had a good reason to go – the women, of course – but he didn't. So why did he go, when he knew he won't enjoy it? It wasn't like him to be so irrational. After an hour or so, after Sherlock had deduced everything possible in the room, he looked at Mycroft. He wasn't really dancing, of course, just moving around a bit, awkwardly. But he seemed happy again. Why was he so happy? Dana looked at him then, making eye contact. Her smile faded almost completely, and she said something to Mycroft and started walking towards him. Mycroft grabbed her arm and said something angrily. She was with her back to Sherlock now, so he couldn't see what she said to him. But whatever it was, it worked. Mycroft let go of her arm, with an almost disappointed look, and she walked to Sherlock again. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat next to him.

"What did he say when he grabbed your arm?"

"He was upset that I'm going to you again. So I told him that since he's always angry with me when I go to you instead of being with him, now's his chance to go talk to someone else and I'll look at him with jealousy."

"Will you be jealous if he'll dance with someone else?"

"Of course not. And he knows it. But now he has no excuse for being upset."

There was a short silence.

"Well, if we're sitting by the bar, better get something to drink, should we?" she said joyfully. During the whole night she seemed to enjoy herself.

Sherlock re-filled his glass, and Dana got one of her own. She took it down in seconds. Sherlock looked at her with surprise. Of all people, she didn't look like a drinker.

"I think I need something a little stronger." she said. So she got herself something stronger. After the third glass of that 'something stronger', Sherlock looked at Mycroft. He looked upset. But he knew it wasn't because she sat with him. If this was reason, he would have looked at him. But he was looking at her with concern. He looked as if he wants to come and tell her something, but knew she'll get upset if she did, so he didn't.

"You have drinking problems, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"My brother seems very concerned about your amount of drinks."

"Well, he can be concerned as much as he wants. It's about time he realizes that I don't care." She took another zip of her drink. "Besides, I don't have drinking problems. I had a _problem_ caused of drinking." She looked at Sherlock. He looked as if he's waiting for her to continue.

"Well?"

"You can't be curious about this." she said. But he actually was, for some reason. Probably because he was bored to death, and she was about to tell him a story he couldn't deduce. As Sherlock didn't answer her, she sighed and began telling him.

"I had a twin sister called Aly. She was my best friend, even though we were complete opposites – she was the perfect girl that made our parents proud, and I was the one to make them stop being proud." she half smiled when she said that, like she's thinking of all the trouble she had caused to her parents back then. But then her face got serious.

"On April 14th when I was thirteen I came back home from a friend's birthday party. I got in my room, and I found her bleeding body on my bed. She died before the paramedics showed up. And when they did, they thought _I _was the killer, because I had her blood all over my hands. That was because I tried to shake her, to make her wake up and open her eyes. And she was all covered with blood. My sister's blood was all over my hands, and I felt so _guilty_." Her face were filled with sorrow and pain, and Sherlock frowned. He knew it would be appropriate to say something comforting, but he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. And she continued.

"My parents told me that all that was found on her body was a torn photograph of her – no fingerprints, no clue to the killer. The police closed the case because of lack of evidences. She was thirteen, and she was raped and beaten to death, and nobody tried to find the person who did it. My parents gave up too quickly, but I didn't. I started doing much more trouble, got low grades, got violent. She was all I could think of." She took a deep breathe. It was clear that it was difficult for her to tell him that story, and she probably wouldn't have told it if it wasn't for all the drinks she had.

"One year later, on the anniversary of one year to her death, my grandparents invited the family over. I wasn't invited, of course. So I stayed home, alone. I got bored, so I started opening drawer around the house. After about 30 minutes, I found one that was filled with picture albums. All Aly's, of course. So I picked one up and looked at the picture. After a couple of pages I saw a picture that was torn in the middle. I recognized the picture. It was of Aly and me in Halloween when we were 10 and had the same costume. The part in the album was of Aly." she paused and looked at him as if she was waiting for him to understand something. He didn't understand.

"Don't you see? _That _was the picture that was found on her body. The other half of the picture – where _I_ am. The killer intended to kill _me_, but got the wrong twin!" she said, in such a hurt, angry and sorry tone and Sherlock frowned again.

"When I understood it that night, I blamed myself. If I hadn't gone to that party, she was still alive. I couldn't take the pain anymore, so I looked for something to take it away, and I found something alcoholic, can't remember what. I drank the whole bottle in the next hour. And when my parents got home, I shot my father with the gun he was hiding under his bed."

Sherlock was shocked. After a moment, he asked: "Any regrets?"

"Only that I didn't do it earlier. It was his fault, of course. Everything was. My mother didn't think the same way, though. She checked me in a mental institution, claiming that I have a problem. I didn't speak for 3 years there. I didn't have anyone to talk to. That was when I realized I didn't need to talk to learn things about the people around me. I could simply observe. I could see who's not taking his meds, which nurse is actually in a relationship with her patient, which nurse is actually abusing her patient. I stayed at that institution for ten years, and I helped them see what they couldn't see by themselves. After I left the institution, I got myself a flat and got different jobs. I was fired after a couple of months every time, because I deduced my collies or because of the trouble I kept getting into. I lived like that for six years, alone." she stopped and looked at him with disbelief. "You don't care, don't you? Yes, I should shut up for a while."

"No, no. Continue." He cared, for some reason. Ignoring the part where her sister dies, they were very much alike. They were both the neglected child. They were both thought to be mad. They were both utterly alone for a long time. And they both understood what others could never see.

"How did you two meet? You and Mycroft, I mean." he asked. She was surprised he cared, but was too drunk to say anything about it.

"That was two years ago. I was walking back from my job then. It was late and I was tired, so I decided to take a shortcut through an ally. After a few moments, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and two men jumped on my back. I managed to hit them and run, but they grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. I screamed for help, but no one heard. I tried to push them off me again, but one of them punched me in my face so hard my head hit the ground and I blacked-out. By the time I woke up, it was too late. My whole body hurt, and my shirt and pants were somewhere near me. I tried screaming again, but they hit me again. And then I remember hearing footsteps. Both men got up and looked around. Then there was a loud noise, and both men fell down to the ground, not moving. The mysterious man came to me – it was Mycroft. He had seen it all in the cameras. I remember the look on his face when he saw me. He didn't even seem to notice I was naked. All he saw were the bruises on my body and the blood on my face. He removed his coat and rapped me in it, and he took me to his apartment. He washed me, gave me something to wear and put me in his bed. I was half blacked-out then. I woke up terrified, of course. I did not remember how I got there. Mycroft had taken a day off, and he was waiting for me to wake up. He told me what happened, and the evening of the same day was our first date."

Sherlock was stunned. He did not expect such a story. This girl managed to surprise him every single time, and he wasn't that kind of a man. He looked at her. Her partly curly light-brown hair, her thick red lips, her deep blue eyes. There was more in her than he had ever thought. She felt _different_ to him. Special. Clever. Understanding. Strong. He couldn't find the right word for her, and it disturbed him. Why did he care about her so much?

"I think it's time we'll go home." Mycroft said in a serious tone. Neither Dana nor Sherlock had noticed he stood there.

"Why? It's not even that late!"

"You know exactly why. Let's go."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She got up from her chair, but lost her balance fell forward on Mycroft he caught her and said, more quietly: "And here's the reason. You're ought to cut the drinking now."

"Why? I'm even that drunk."

"Walk on a straight line."

"Mycroft, I'm wearing heels. _No one_ can walk on a straight line with heels."

"Sherlock, are you joining us?" Mycroft asked his brother, ignoring her protests.

"Yes. It seems John is doing well on his own, and I can use a ride home."

Mycroft half-hugged half-held Dana and led her outside, and Sherlock followed them. He felt strange watching them together like that. He couldn't describe this feeling, because he didn't recognize it. He knew what John would say about this – that he's falling for his brother's girl. That was rubbish, of course. 'falling' for someone is for regular people, the unintelligent ones. He was better than them. He knew that whatever it is that felt, it wasn't love, even though he was never in love before. But it was strange. Mycroft and Dana were talking quietly, and occasionally one of them laughed. And when they sat in the taxi, they kept talking, and Sherlock simply looked out the window and tried not to listen.


	12. Chapter 12

_How much do you remember from last night? _

_DS_

_Everything. I didn't drink as much as you did. _

_SH_

_I didn't mean to tell you all of that. _

_DS_

_I won't tell anyone. _

_SH _

She half smiled at his answer. That was what she wanted him to say. Just then the door opened and Mycroft got in. He came to her and kissed her lightly.

"Bad news. I have to go away for a couple of days. I'm sorry, it's not up to me."

"I _hate_ going to those trips! Is there nothing you can do to cancel it?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't. And you can't come with me this time – it's very confidential."

She looked at him with disbelief.

"Well, you don't expect me to stay here all alone."

"I could always check you in a hotel."

She shook her head. "I'm not going to any hotel."

He sighed. "Well, what do you expect me to do, then?"

"I don't know. Don't you have a friend that can have me for a couple of nights? I hate being alone."

"Don't _you_ have any friends?"

"I actually do. Alright, I'll go packing."

He thought for a moment, and then lowered his voice.

"_Not_ Sherlock."

"Relax, it's not him."


	13. Chapter 13

John went to open the door, because Sherlock, as always, ignored it to make John get up instead of him. Dana was there, with a small suitcase. Mycroft was standing behind her, and his look made John be happy that looks can't kill.

"We're friends, right, Dr. Watson?" she asked with a small smile.

"Excuse me?"

"And as my friend, you wouldn't mind having me here for a couple of days, right? Mycroft is leaving for a business trip. I'll help with the dishes and laundry, of course." she ignored his confusion.

"Um, I guess."

Her smile widened as she walked inside. Mycroft inevitably followed.

"Goodbye, Mycroft. Try not to start a war when you're gone." she said and kissed him. He didn't move, so she pushed him to the door.

"Don't you have a flight to catch?"

"Alright, I'm going. Take care." He said, and then raised his look to John, and the subtext was clear – keep her safe. He left and John closed the door behind him.

Dana turned to them and smiled.

"So, what do you usually do in the evenings? I'm already bored."

"Well, I usually complain about the lack of food in here, and after Sherlock ignores me I go shopping for groceries and make myself a snack." said John, and Sherlock smiled.

"Don't you eat, Mr. Holmes?"

"Digesting slows me down."

"Well, that means you hadn't eaten anything good enough to be worth slowing you down. I'll go shopping this time, Dr. Watson, and I'll make dinner. It's the least I can do to thank you for having me here." she said and walked to the door.

"Wait." Sherlock said just as she reached the door. She turned to him.

"Stay. I'll go. That's no way to treat a guest." Sherlock said and without waiting for a response got up and left. John was very surprised. Sherlock _never_ went shopping, and definitely never volunteered to go instead of someone else.

Dana sat down on the sofa, and John sat down on a chair next to her.

"So how did you meet Mycroft?" John tried to break the silence.

"Some men tried to rob me, he helped. Took me to dinner the next day." She obviously lied. The real story was too private. Which is why she felt very vulnerable knowing that Sherlock knows it.

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence again, so John used the opportunity that Sherlock isn't around to let his thoughts out.

"He likes you, you know."

"Well, of course he does. That's the whole point of dating, you know."

"I'm not talking about Mycroft. I'm talking about Sherlock."

She was surprised for a moment.

Sherlock was going up the stairs. He had managed to finish all of the shopping very quickly. He was just about to enter, but then he heard his name. So he waited and listened.

Dana rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't _like_ me. He's interested. And not in a romantic way. Mr. Holmes is a man of mysteries, Dr. Watson, and that's exactly what I am for him. Like a brand new present presented to a child – at first, he will be very excited to know what's inside. After he'll open it, he'll use it for a day or a week – and then forget about it and move to the next gift. All he wants to know is my secrets. Like he always does. The only difference between me and other people is that he can't deduce the secrets out of me – they're too deep inside."

"Well, the result depends on another thing – do_ you_ like _him_?"

Sherlock became nervous. Perhaps his flat mate's mind wasn't as sharp and as quick as his own, but when it came to feeling and emotions, he was the best. Of course he liked Dana. She was beautiful, clever and mysterious. And the most important part – dating his brother. That was why he hadn't done anything about his strange, unwanted feelings. But he was curious to hear her answer. Perhaps, if she'll say she doesn't it'll help him make these feelings go away. His hand became sweaty, and one of the bags of groceries he was holding slipped of his hand and landed loudly on the floor.

Dana opened her mouth to answer, but then a loud noise was heard, so she turned her head over to the door, and so did John. Sherlock reluctantly picked up the bag and entered.

"Sorry about that. The bag slipped." he muttered.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll make us dinner."

She got up and started taking out the groceries out of the bags. Sherlock helped her.

"So, since when are you such a great cook?"

"I have to eat _somehow_."

"Isn't Mycroft cooking sometimes?" John asked. Mycroft seemed to know everything about everything, so it seemed unlikely for him to not help in that part.

Both Sherlock and Dana laughed.

"Mycroft? Cooking?" Sherlock said amused as he continued laughing.

"He almost set a fire once when he tried to boil an egg." she said and they both laughed more loudly. John was still not getting the joke. He guessed he just didn't know Mycroft well enough. Not that he wanted to.

"When we were ten he once really _did_ start a fire when he tried to help our mother with the cooking." Sherlock said, and the two continued laughing. They calmed down after a while, but the smile didn't leave their faces. She started cooking, and Sherlock helped her. She was making spaghetti in tomato sauce, and every time she needed something – salt, pepper, basil – all she had to do was to say the word, and Sherlock immediately got it for her. They were cooperating perfectly. In ten minutes dinner was ready, and they all sat down to eat. John was very surprised to see Sherlock taking himself a plate full of spaghetti, yet he had expected that. She was the one to make it, so of course he'll eat it. And he will like it.

"That's great." Sherlock said, as expected, after taking a mouthful of food, and John smiled to himself.

"I told you you'll like it. You can't starve yourself, it's not healthy."

The rest of the dinner was quiet. Sherlock finished his meal, to their surprise. After they were done, Dana and Sherlock washed the dishes, and John sat down to blog about their recent Chinese 'adventure'. After they were done, Dana went to him and glanced at the computer behind his shoulder.

"_The Blind Banker?_" she quoted.

"Well, the whole case started by the yellow line sprayed over the banker's eyes."

"But that was a minor part of the investigation. What about the cipher? The Black Lotus? Aren't these much more important?"

Sherlock smiled to himself at her reaction. He liked the fact that she too thought that John's descriptions are often not accurate.

Dana yawned and laid on the sofa.

"I'm exhausted. I think I'll go to sleep now, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not." John answered immediately.

"You're not planning on sleeping _here_, are you?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course I am. I'm the guest, so I'll sleep on the sofa."

"You can't sleep here! Take my bed, I'll take the sofa." John objected.

"It's fine, really. Look, I have just enough room." she said and curled up a bit to demonstrate. Since she was with her back to them, she leaned backwards so she will be facing them.

"See– " she started saying, but then she leaned too much backwards and rolled down from the sofa to the floor.

"Are you alright?" John asked worried. If she got hurt in any way, Mycroft would kill him. Literally.

"I'm alright, Dr. Watson. Calm down." she said and got up.

"Take my bed." Sherlock suddenly said.

"Mr. Holmes- "

"I'm not sleeping in my bed tonight, so it will be a shame if you won't use it. Besides, this sofa isn't big enough for both of us, I'm afraid."

"Fine. Goodnight, Dr. Watson. Goodnight, Mr. Holmes. And thank you again for your kind hospitality." she said and went to Sherlock's room. Both men looked at her as she took her suitcase with her and entered his room.

"You were eaves-dropping us, weren't you?"

"What?"

"When the bag fell."

Sherlock hesitated a moment before he answered. He considered the advantages of lying, but came to the conclusion that it would be unhelpful, since John will immediately detect his lie.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

John giggled.

"You _never_ drop anything."


	14. Chapter 14

When Sherlock entered the living room, it was empty. Neither Dana nor John were up yet, so he took his laptop and started reading John's recent update in his blog. Just as he finished reading, John entered the room.

"Good morning."

"John, this is appalling. It's all 'and then we ran here! And then we ran there! And it was a code!' What about the analysis, John? The analysis! How did I work it out? How did I know where to go? And as for 'All these people he involves in his adventures... '. My what? I'm sorry, obviously I didn't realize I was a character in a children's story."

John moaned.

"Well, you're very childish. So if the cap fits…"

"Also, please note that sentences can also end in full stops. The exclamation mark can be overused."

"Sherlock, I – "

"Good morning, Dr. Watson. Is everything alright? You two sound a bit upset."

"Good morning Dana. Everything is fine, he's just – "

"_Is that my shirt?_" Sherlock asked in surprise and confusion. She was wearing one of his buttoned shirts, a dark-blue one. It was at the length of a short dress on her, and the sleeves were folded so they wouldn't be too long.

"Well what did you expect me to sleep in?"

"Your _own _clothes?" John asked.

"I forgot to bring anything to sleep in."

"How could you forget that?!"

"You try packing while arguing with Mycroft. It's very distracting."

"You argue quite often, don't you?" Sherlock asked tactlessly.

"I love him, but he can be very over-protective sometimes. Besides, what couple doesn't argue?"

Sherlock didn't like her use of the word 'couple'.

Dana looked around.

"This place is filthy. Do you ever clean here?"

Neither of them answered.

"Forget I asked. Anyway, now I know how am I going to spend the day."

She said that, and started working. From that moment until the sun set, she cleaned the flat. She changed the sheets in their bed, dusted the furniture, and cleaned the floor. She worked all day long, without taking any breaks or complain. And as it got dark, she was done, and she started cooking. She wasn't making them dinner – she prepared food for a whole week. Since she had known the men, she knew neither of them would make anything to eat after she'll leave, so did it instead of them. John left early for he had had a date, so Sherlock and Dana were left alone. They ate dinner together in silence. After they were done, Dana washed the dishes and Sherlock played the violin. Once Dana was done, she went to stand next to Sherlock and looked at him with admiration. She seemed to be fascinated by the music he was playing.

"That was _beautiful_!" she said as he finished playing.

"It's not hard, once you know the basics."

"I wish I knew them as well. I can only play the piano, but I had always wanted to learn how to play a different instrument."

"I could teach you if you want."

"You could?" her face lightened up.

He handed her the violin, and she gently took it. He placed it on her shoulder. He stood behind her, and each of his hands were on hers, holding her in a way he could move them to demonstrate.

"You hold the arch like this, and you simply rub it against the strings." he said and moved her arch-holding hand in a way it would make a sound. She was excited she managed to play something. She turned her head to thank Sherlock, and that was when she realized how close she was to him. His arms were around her, on her arms. His face was centimeters away from hers. They looked at each other like that for a few moments, each thinking what should they do next. Sherlock leaned just a bit forward.

John went inside.

"Well, she ditched me. I waited there, and – what are you doing?" John said, clearly still upset about his cancelled date. Sherlock immediately took a step back, and Dana turned to face John.

"Oh, hello, Dr. Watson. Sorry to hear that. Mr. Holmes was just trying to teach me how to play the violin."

"Are you any good?"

"Well, I've just started."

"Oh. Well, if you don't mind, I'll go and take a shower." He said and left.

Dana and Sherlock looked at him, and then Dana broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What is it about me that keeps you curious? I mean, you know everything about me. What is left for you to find out?" she said and turned to him, still standing very close to him.

Sherlock opened his mouth, and then closed it. Then he opened it again and spoke very quietly.

"I have… I have to know _why_ is my brother so different around you. Why you argue very often, yet you're always the one to win. Why is he so worried about you all the time, and treats you with such delicacy he think you could just break in any minute?"

Her face became blank, and Sherlock understood she was dead-serious as she answered him.

"Well, you'll have to work very hard for that part, because I'm _never_ going to tell you that part."

They exchanged looks, and just then John went out of the bathroom, and Dana's impression changed immediately. She looked much more calm.

"I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." she said and walked to Sherlock's room. Just as she got to the door, she turned around.

"Dr. Watson." she called, and he raised his head.

"If she stood you up, she was never worth of your time." She said with a shy smile, and then entered the room and closed the door behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Where's Dr. Watson?" she said as she entered the room. This time she was wearing a different shirt, a black one.

"Got himself some breakfast date."

"Good for him. Maybe that way he'll forget about last night's failure."

She got herself something to eat, Sherlock didn't notice what. He was too busy debating with himself whether to say what's on his mind or too keep quiet.

"It's my turn now." he decided to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"You asked me a question yesterday. Now it's my turn to ask you one."

"I can't say I like this suggestion, but I suppose it would be unfair of me to not answer as well."

"That night, at the party, you were with Mycroft, yet as you noticed I was alone, you came to sit beside me. Why did you do that? Why did you care?"

Her expression became softer as she spoke.

"You looked bored, and lonely. Everyone is lonely sometimes, we deal with it. But I knew the boredom was much worse for you than the loneliness."

Sherlock wasn't sure if he was more touched or confused.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, you _did_ shoot a wall once. Besides, you're like me. We'll do anything to not be bored." she smiled shyly. One of Sherlock's mouth corners lifted instinctively in reaction to her smile.

"By the way, I read Dr. Watson's blog the other night. It said it was the cabbie that did it. But why did he do it? He never mentioned it in his blog."

Sherlock was pleased of her curiosity.

"He had a sponsor. It wasn't very easy to get his name, but I eventually did."

"What was it?"

"Moriarty."

"Hmmm." she looked away for a moment.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"It was Dr. Watson who shot him, wasn't it?" she asked with a satisfied smile.

After a few seconds he answered. "Who else would want to save me?"

They looked at each other for a short while, and then her phone rang.

"Speaking of people who care about you…" she murmured and answered the call.

"Hello, darling. How was the flight back?"

She laughed.

"Did you miss me?"

She blushed, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Alright, I'll take a taxi and come."

As Sherlock thought, Mycroft had a different plan.

"No, you don't have to come – "

Sherlock was amused by hearing only one side of the argument.

"I'll just take a – "

"I have feet of my own, you – "

"Fine. Come."

She hung up.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go pack up my things now, because my boyfriend is a control freak."

Sherlock giggled and she smiled and went to his room to change. Meanwhile, Sherlock washed the dish she used.

When she was back, she was wearing her regular tight jeans and a black shirt.

"It's my turn again." she said, and Sherlock immediately understood what she was referring to.

"Ask away."

"Did Mycroft ever have a girlfriend before me?"

Sherlock was surprised, both by the answer and by the obvious answer she did not think about by herself.

"You've met him. What do you think the answer is?"

She laughed shortly, but then became more serious.

"He's very sweet, you know. He's different when we're together. More thoughtful and kind."

"But he is a control freak."

She smiled.

"I suppose some things are unchangeable."

"Alright, my turn."

"Ask away." she said, mocking him.

"Did _you_ have a boyfriend before him?"

She smiled humourlessly.

"You've met me. What do you think the answer is?"

Sherlock knew what she meant. _He_ thought she was perfect, but he was different from everyone else, and he knew it. And the same with Mycroft. But that was why he had liked her – she was different, too.

Someone knocked on the door, and Sherlock went to open. Mycroft walked in, ignoring Sherlock.

"Good morning, brother." he murmured sarcastically.

Dana got up, smiling, and hugged him.

"Hello, love." He said as they separated. "Missed me much?"

Her smile grew bigger and she kissed him a long and passionate kiss. After a while, Sherlock felt awkward, so he cleared his throat to draw their attention. As he hoped, they separated.

"Well, I think we'll head home now."

She nodded and took her suitcase.

"Thank you for having me here, Mr. Holmes."

He nodded.

They left, and Sherlock went to close the door. As he was only two steps away from the door, Mycroft appeared there.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

And then he turned and left, and Sherlock closed the door behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Apparently Mycroft is going away again, but this time I'm joining him. Try not to have an interesting case until I'm back. _

_DS_

_At the moment it seems that the criminals are out of inspiration, so don't worry. If you're bored you could always help us find who that Moriarty is. _

_SH _

Sherlock smiled at his phone, amused by the message he had just sent. Then, there was a big explosion. The glass behind him shattered and he fell on his face.


	17. Chapter 17

"It's been four days, Mycroft. Neither of them answered my texts. How can you not be worried?"

"Try calling them."

"I already did. No answer. And have you seen the strange posts in your brother's website? He said something about a pool, and about the something-plans you've mentioned once."

"Dana…"

"I'm going to their flat."

She walked quickly out, and got a taxi. She was genuinely worried. They clearly had an interesting case, but it also seemed to be a very dangerous one. Not to mention the explosion that occurred in Baker Street. She had no sign of life from either of them.

The cab stopped and she paid the cabbie and got out quickly. She walked very quickly, and by the time was at the stairs she was running. She knocked on the door loudly. The door was opened, and she stormed in.

"Why aren't you answering your phones? I've been worried sick!"

She turned to face the man who opened the door, and it was neither Sherlock nor John. She tried to run out of the flat, but the man grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor. He shut the door, and she got up and hit him in the face. He grasped her arm and twisted in. She groaned in pain, and the man pulled out a gun and hit her head. Everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock and John entered the flat, after being at the pool. They were both still very excited about what has happened there. They walked in, and then they both stopped in shock as they looked at the sofa.

Dana laid there, her body full of cuts, wounds and blood.

Her eyes were closed.

John ran to her. He put her head over her mouth.

"She's still alive. Call an ambulance!"

Sherlock didn't move. He was completely frozen.

"Sherlock!"

As he didn't respond, John moaned and called them by himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Sherlock was frustrated. Dana was at the hospital. She needed a surgery, but no one could guarantee she'll survive it. He tried to deduce something, _anything_ from the flat, but he was too emotional to do so. He looked around again. He saw the place where she fell down. Then his gaze went to a bloody chair, which she clearly sat on while it all happened. There was a tiny piece of a rope on the floor beneath in, so her hands were tied. But you didn't need to be a genius to figure that out.

Sherlock put his hands on his head. This had never happened to him. There was always _something_. A clue. No killer was that clever. _She's not dead_, he reminded himself. He looked at the coffee table that was in front of the chair. There was nothing on it but his laptop. He had a strange feeling about it for a second, and then he understood why. That wasn't where he had left it – he left it in his room. And that wasn't the only thing peculiar about it: it was strangely exactly in front of the chair. He opened it, and there was a white 'play' arrow on a black screen.

Sherlock immediately pulled out his phone from his pocket. He texted John quickly, telling him to come over. Then he dialed a number quickly and called.

"What is it?"

"Come to my flat. Now."

"Sherlock, I'm too occupied right now for your little riddles."

"This _is_ about her, Mycroft."

There was no answer for a moment.

"I'm on my way."


	20. Chapter 20

They put the computer on the other edge of the table. John was sitting on a chair in front of it, a different one, and the brothers stood behind him. He clicked play, and a video started playing. And it was of Dana. She was sitting on the chair, her hands tied behind her back. No cuts on her body. Still alive. She opened her eyes.

"Rise and shine." said an unknown man. He was invisible to the camera, but she was looking at him.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The man hesitated a moment before answering, and when he finally did, his voice was full of contempt.

"The question is not who _I _am, it is who_ sent_ me."

Her eyes widened with comprehension and fear.

"Moriarty." she said quietly.

"He doesn't like you sniffing around about him. You found out too much about him in your little trip. Was your boyfriend not giving you enough attention?"

"I won't tell them. Not a word."

"Of course you won't. You won't be alive for that long."

The look in her eyes changed as he said that. She looked terrified, but also defeated. Like a scared puppy – helpless.

"Are you recording me?" she whispered.

"Your 'friends' should know why you died. Get the warning." he said the word 'friends' in disparagement.

"Can I say something?" she whispered even more quietly.

"Well, it is usually the villain asking for the last words, but go ahead."

She looked straight to the camera now. She seemed to be shaking. Both Sherlock and Mycroft were petrified with horror, fear and anger.

"Mycroft, I love you. This is _not_ your fault. I got myself into this, and these are the consequences. But this is _my _fault, not yours."

And even though she looked scared to hell, she wasn't crying. She stayed strong for him.

"Is that it?"

She nodded.

"Didn't you forget someone?"

After a moment, she looked to the camera again.

"Thank you, Dr. Watson. For everything. And I'm sorry about your furniture. I'll try not bleed out much." she said as her voice broke, but she smiled, humourlessly, to cover up for it.

John's hand closed into a fist, and his fingers turned white because he squinted his hand so hard. He should have thanked her when she said that about his date. He should have been nicer to her.

"Are you done now?"

She nodded again, her face down.

"Are you sure? I think you left someone out."

She didn't move.

"How about your love interest?" he said in disdain.

"I've already talked to Mycroft."

"No, not him."

She lifted her head, and her eyes at last sparkled with tears.

"You haven't told him, haven't you? Well, I would do the same thing if I were you. How could you look at your boyfriend's eyes, and tell him you're in love with his _very own brother_?"

She looked to the floor again, and they could see the tears falling. John looked at Mycroft, and then regretted doing so. He looked so hurt, confused, betrayed, but also very sad. Dana opened her mouth, but then closed it again without saying a word. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, telling him he's lying, but she couldn't. He was right, and she was both happy and sad because of it. She hated herself desperately for doing this to Mycroft. She never did stop loving him, she just starting loving someone else. Sherlock. He was _so much_ like her. She felt more comfortable next to him than she had ever felt with Mycroft. He understood her so perfectly, in ways his brother isn't capable of.

Sherlock feelings were storming as well. He was terribly happy to find out about her feelings, but he felt bad for his brother. As estranged they were to each other, he was still his brother.

Dana's lips moved, but no voice was heard, and only the brothers could make sense of what she said – "I love you both."

"Well, my time is being wasted." the man said, and a gun was pointed at her. She flinched in her chair, but the pistol was draw back.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we relive the past?" he said, and a knife was pulled. Dana's face filled with pain, as they did only once before – and Sherlock understood immediately what he was talking about. And he hated him for saying that.

"After twenty two years, the sisters are finally reunited."

"She doesn't have a sister." Mycroft muttered. Then he looked at Sherlock, and by the look on his face he understood what was going on.

"She never told me." He said quietly.

The man walked towards her, and just as he was blocking her completely, the video stopped. They all stared at the screen for a moment, and then Mycroft's phone rang. He answered, said a few words, and hung up.

"It's the hospital. She's out of the surgery. She's alive."


	21. Chapter 21

They were all in her room. She was unconscious, and her body was full of countless stitches. Sherlock was sitting on a chair beside her, and John was on a chair next to him. Mycroft was standing at the corner.

"It's your fault." Sherlock muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Everything. This. Your fault."

"And how is it my fault exactly?" he asked angrily.

"If you hadn't made her go with you …" he said and turned on the chair so he'll face him.

"This has nothing to do with me! If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself."

"Me?!" he got up and stood a few paces away from him.

"_You_ asked her to sniff around about Moriarty! She did it to please _you_!" he raised his voice, almost shouting now.

"You gave her the chance to do so!" Sherlock _was_ shouting.

"Sherlock…" John tried to calm them and stood up as well.

"She wouldn't have known about him if you hadn't told her!"

"Boys!" John shouted, and they both turned to look at him. But their gaze drifted from him to what was behind him. Dana's eyes were open now, and she was breathing heavily, looking around in fear. Sherlock rushed to her, sat next to her and took her hand in his.

"Hey. Hey, it's ok. It's ok. You're safe now. Everything's alright." he took slow, deep breathes, and Dana did the same. She calmed down after a while, and starting understanding what was happening.

"I'm in the hospital."

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"I'm alive."

"Yes." he confirmed as well, this time with relief.

She looked down at her hand. Sherlock was holding it, and he pulled his hand back now.

She looked to Mycroft now. He seemed relieved, but also extremely hurt. After a second she remembered why.

"Mycroft, I…" her voice trailed off.

"It's alright. You just helped me do what I was afraid of, but now I see that is very necessary."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about. I can't do this anymore, Dana. I love you, you know I do, but that's not enough. There are things that are more important for a relationship. Like trust, and understanding, which we both have a lack of. But you do have it with him, and I don't want to be the one who got in your way. I would have waited with this until you're better so you won't be alone, but you're not alone. You have him."

"I'm sorry." she whispered with sparkling eyes.

"Not as much as I am."

He turned to walk away, and he stood at the door when she called him.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"We could still be friends, right? I can't live without you."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Of course we can." he said and then left. He knew staying friends with her would hurt him, but he still loved her, and he'd do anything to keep her happy.

"I think we'll go now." John said eventually.

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Come on, let's go." he said and pulled Sherlock out by his arm. And as they left the room, they heard her starting weeping quietly.


	22. Chapter 22

Sherlock sat on the chair with a straight back, waiting for a knock. It's been three weeks since that night, and Dana was finally released home. But since she lived with Mycroft and they've broke up, she couldn't live there anymore. So Sherlock suggested having her, until she finds a new flat.

At last, someone knocked on the door, and it was Dana. She had two suitcases with all her belongings in them, but she looks so weak her took them both without asking. He put them in his room, as she will obviously stay there, and she closed the door. They both inevitably thought of the previous time she stayed there – when she was still Mycroft's girl, and their feelings were each other were still confused and unknown.

Sherlock was back, and she was sitting on the sofa, staring at the air. She was different since that night – quieter, less alive. Sherlock felt as if she's drifting away from him further and further with every moment that passed, so he drew her attention.

"So how is it like, being home again?"

"It's alright. Better than the hospital."

"Hungry?"

"No." she was obviously lying.

"When was the last time you've eaten?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly. It's not healthy to starve yourself all day. You taught me that."

He got up and took out a box out of the fridge. He put some of its content on a plate and put it the microwave. While it was heating there, he brought her a fork and a knife. Then the microwave made a sound, and he quickly brought the plate over. And it was the same meal of pasta she prepared to them that day. She smiled at the gesture, but also because she wondered if that was the only thing he knew how to cook, since he barely ate anything.

She ate slowly, in silence. After she was done, he took the plate, the knife and the fork and put them in the sink.

"How was the food?"

"Good. It was good."

There was silence again.

"Why don't you go to sleep? I know it's early, but you seem exhausted."

"No, I'm fine."

"Go to sleep."

"Fine." She got up and walked slowly to the bedroom.

"Goodnight." he called to her, but she didn't answer.

He stared at the room's door for a while, but then, having nothing better to do, he went to sleep as well. He fell asleep more quickly than usual.

"Mr. Holmes." a voice whispered, and he immediately woke up. It was Dana, once again wearing one of his shirts, but it was too dark for him to see which one.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind sharing the bed with me for the night?" She asked quietly, and after a moment added: "I can't sleep alone."

"Of course." he got up quickly and escorted her to the room, she got in the bed without even looking at him, and he was too happy than he should have been when he did the same. This time it took home longer to fall sleep, because his heart was beating too quickly. But eventually he did. After an unknown period of time, he felt movement and he woke up again. Dana was sitting on the bed, her head between her hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a bad dream." she said tiredly. It took Sherlock a while to understand what was she really trying to say.

"That's why you're so tired, isn't it? You keep having nightmares ever since that night, that's why you don't sleep."

"They were always the same, or at least very similar," she said with a shaking voice, "always me hurting someone else, or someone else hurting me. But this one was different." She turned her head to look at him.

"I was hurting you in this one."

Sherlock was surprised hurting him had effected her so deeply, but as he saw the tears in her eyes he immediately forgot about that.

"Hey. Hey." He got up to sitting and got closer to her. He put his hand on her cheek in a way she had to look at him.

"I'm fine. And so are you. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep now."

She gave him a frightened look, so he added: "I won't let anything hurt you."

She slowly laid down again, and so did Sherlock. She closed her eyes, and she fell asleep quickly. Sherlock didn't close his eyes. He didn't stop looking at her. She was with her back to him, but watching her back moving up and then down slowly, hearing her breathing, calmed him down.

After about an hour, she started moving. Shaking. She was clearly in the middle of a nightmare.

"Shhh. It's ok. I'm here. It's ok." he pulled her closer to him and whispered in her ear. She slowly stopped shaking, and he pulled her even closer. Her head was on his shoulder, and he kept whispering calming words to her for half an hour. Then, he was too tired to keep his eyes open, and he fell asleep. His dream was much better than hers, and he suspected it was because of the lack of distance between them.


	23. Chapter 23

This time Dana woke up first. When she just opened her eyes, she was surprise to see the sun shining. He hadn't slept in that late for too long. Then she noticed her position. Her head was on Sherlock's shoulder, and his hand was around her. She laid there for a moment, enjoying the physical touch between them, and then gently lifted his arm and quietly got up and out of the bed. Surprisingly, it didn't wake him up.

The long night's sleep made her feel incredibly better. She went to the kitchen and prepared herself a cup of tea, and waited for him to wake up. After fifteen minutes he did.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes."

"Good morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Perfect." After a few seconds she continued. "Thank you for the night. I needed that."

"No problem." He murmured.

"These dreams always make me feel like I'm mad, you know. Maybe I am. That is how they diagnosed me - bipolar disorder, chronic nightmares, anxiety, sometimes suicidal. Maybe they're right. Maybe I _am_ mad after all." she started at the air when she said that, she didn't even look at him.

And that was it. The question Sherlock wanted the answer for was_ finally_ answered - her mother didn't check her in a mental hospital to get rid of her, she did it because she _needed_ it. Mycroft was so different around her because he was constantly worried about her mental fragility. She was so brilliant because she was _mad_.

Just like him.

"Being mad isn't necessarily a bad thing. Mad people tend to be the brightest."

She smirked at him.

"Don't try to compliment me. Besides, you don't have an excuse for being so bright."

"I barely talk to my brother. I observe at corpses for living and it doesn't affect me. I can read through everyone and everything in seconds, but when it comes to emotions I'm lost. How's that for mad?"

Her look became softer, and Sherlock he officially broke all of her walls. She now knew she had nothing to hide from him.


	24. Chapter 24

The next few days passed the same way. They were inseparable. She either looked at him as he played the violin, or put her head on his shoulder as he was working on the computer, and when they got bored, she put her head in his lap and they talked, very quietly, as he stroked her hair. John had several dates those days, since Sherlock was completely ignorant to him when she was around. They still shared the bed, even though Dana didn't have any more nightmares, but she was afraid that they'll come back as soon as she'll stop being close to him at night.


	25. Chapter 25

"That was fast." she said to him as he was back from the shopping.

"I did my best."

She got up from the chair to help him with the bags. She was wearing an egg-plant coloured shirt this time. Sherlock led her help him only because he knew she was much stronger now. She was sleeping well at nights and resting at the days, so of course she was better.

After they finished organizing the groceries, they were both standing in the middle of the room, a few paces away from each other.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to thank you. You've been so kind and thoughtful during the last month. I don't deserve such treatment, yet you gave it to me. So thank you." she smiled shyly.

"No problem. And you _do _deserve it." he smiled as well.

Her smile grew bigger, and she hugged him. After she finished back, and leaned back and got away from him. But she didn't take her hands of the back of his neck. They looked at each other for a moment, each wondering what the other will do. Then she kissed him. It was a strong and passionate kiss. But it was short, and then she pulled back and looked at him again. She was waiting to see his reaction. He was, of course, shocked. He had wanted this to happen for such a long time, but this was, in fact, his first kiss. And he was surprised, confused and extremely happy. His heart was beating fast, and he felt hot. And without hesitating, he kissed her. His kiss was more passionate than hers. And it lasted longer. He enjoyed every single moment of it. And so was she. Her hands grasped his hair, and they were both breathing heavily. His hands went lower, to her back, and pulled her even closer to him. Then, her hands moved down his back under his coat, and he knew what she was trying to do. He was nervous, since he had never been in a situation like this before, but he had nothing to worry about. That was the first time in his life when his body controlled his actions instead of his mind. He took down his coat instinctively, and kissed her neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. Then he kissed her again, and at the same time unbuttoned her shirt.

"There's a bedroom, right there." she whispered heavily.

"I know." he said without stopping looking at her shirt.

"Dr. Watson might come home at every second."

His look moved to her eyes.

"Let's go."

And they moved without separating to the room, and they both laughed when her back hit the wall. Sherlock closed the door behind them, smiling like he never did before.


	26. Chapter 26

Dana woke up. It took her a moment to remember what happened the night before, and when she did she smiled. She got up and put on a different shirt, a pink one she was surprised he had. She walked to the living room, and on her way she heard Sherlock's voice, and also John's, who sounded different. She saw Sherlock, wrapped up in a sheet, sitting on a chair and having a video chat with John. The camera in his laptop made her think about that night, but she immediately dismissed the memory. She was too happy to think about it.

"Good morning, love." she called to him.

"Good morning." he called back and smiled.

"Wait, _'love'_? Why did she call you 'love'?" John asked in confusion.

"Is that John?"

"It is."

"Wha – _John_?!" John was even more confused. She _never _called him like that, always 'Dr. Watson'.

"Oh, hello John!" she said joyfully and sat on Sherlock's leg, so she would also be a part of the conversation.

Just then John understood what the combination of the different nicknames, Sherlock's lack of trousers, their joyfulness and their closeness meant – and his eyes widened with surprise. The couple laughed.

"Not possible." he said in shock.

"Yet it is." Sherlock said, and kissed her in protest.

"What _happened _last night?!"

They laughed again.

"Well, back to the case now." Sherlock turned half-serious.

"Wait, update me." she said in curiosity.

"Alright. So there's a man –" John started explaining, as a figure appeared behind them and closed the computer.


	27. Chapter 27

Sherlock opened his eyes. He was still dizzy and confused from whatever the woman injected him with. He got up quickly, and tried to get up but fell down. Dana entered the room as she heard the fall.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

"How did I get here?"

"I don't suppose you remember much. We brought you here, although I should warn you – I think Lestrade filmed you."

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman. The woman."

"Oh, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her."

He got up, and stood in front of her, still a bit dizzy.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"This. Us. I can't do this. I look at you, and I know you're thinking of her. And I can't do that. I just can't. I suppose I deserve this, watching the man I love falling for someone else, but I'm not as strong as Mycroft. I can stay here anymore."

"What? I'm not _falling_ for her." he frowned.

"But you are, Sherlock. You are. Perhaps you're bad in analyzing emotions, but I'm not. And you're attracted to her, in some freakish strange way, but who am I to judge. I love you, Sherlock. But I'm just not strong enough."

This was the first time she had ever told him she loved him, and it was when she was about to leave.

"I'm _not_ attracted to her!"

"Then say it! Tell me you'll drop the case and forget about her. Say it."

She looked at him with a desperate look, but he remained silent. He just couldn't leave the case.

"Go back to sleep now. I'll be gone before dawn." she said softly.

"Don't leave." He said quietly.

"If you'll want me back, all you'll have to do is to find me and ask me to come. But only after you've forgotten about Irene Adler." she said, and turned.

"Goodbye, darling. I'll miss you."

And then she left.


	28. Chapter 28

Sherlock looked out the window at the pouring rain. He thought of the moment when he saved Irene Adler's life. He did not regret doing that – he couldn't let her die. She attracted him in some strange unwanted way, and he couldn't let her die. But he had no intentions of ever seeing her again. She had made him weak, ignorance to obvious facts, and irrational when he needed his mind to be sharp the most.

And as he thought of being so weak and vulnerable, he inevitably thought of the only other person who made him even weaker – Dana. Not only that loved her – not attracted, loved – she loved him as well, and that was a very rare combination. The only love he had ever had, and he led her leave.

But perhaps it wasn't too late.

He remembered what she had said to him before she left – that if he'll want her back, all he has to do is to come to her and ask her to come back to him, and tell her he's forgotten about Irene Adler. His was willing to do that, _desperate_ to do that. During the whole ruckus around the camera-phone, he never did stop thinking about her. He had missed her. But there was, of course, the obvious problem – she never told him where she lives now.

It didn't take him long to come up with an answer. Every street in London was filmed by some camera, and every camera was watched by some man.

_"What is it, Sherlock?" _Mycroft answered impatiently.

"You know where she lives now, don't you? You follow her in the cameras."

He didn't answer for a moment.

_"I'm not giving you the address."_ he said coldly.

"What? Why?"

_"Because all you do is to hurt her. There was nothing I could do back then, but now there is."_

"Mycroft!" Sherlock said furiously. He refused to believe in his words.

_"No."_ he said again with determination.

Sherlock was hopeless. Mycroft could be very sturdy when there was something he cared about, but he _had_ to find Dana. He had only one idea to something that might soften him, but it wasn't easy to say. But he would do anything to have her back, so he said it.

"I love her, Mycroft. I love her. I need her."

Mycroft was quiet. He knew what Sherlock's feelings were towards her, but never thought it was something more than a small affection or interest. He was his _brother_, and there was a limit to how much he could let him suffer.

_"21 Northumberland Street_._"_ he finally, said.

Sherlock smiled slightly when he heard the name – it was the street where John had left his walking cane behind.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

_"I don't need your thankfulness. I need her safety."_ he said and hung up. He did appreciate his thanks, but it didn't mean a thing to him if it meant endangering her.

Sherlock looked at his phone for a second, then grinned and put on his jacket.

"Where are you going?" John asked as he walked in.

"To get her back."

John immediately understood who his was talking about.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Well, of course. Someone should pay for the taxi." He said and smiled sarcastically to him. John rolled his eyes but followed him anyway.


	29. Chapter 29

Dana was sitting on the couch in her small apartment. She looked at what she was holding in her hand. She knew it is a very big decision, the _biggest_, but she already knew what she'll choose.

She was too lonely to keep going.

She raised the gun and put it closer to her head.

Sherlock just got to the door. After knocking on all of the doors, he had finally found the only one he didn't try yet. He knocked.

She didn't hear him. She loaded the gun.

Sherlock heard the familiar sound and panicked. Whoever it is threatening her, he won't live long now.

He busted the door opened with his shoulder.

Dana got up as he entered, surprised. It took her a few moments to understand who it was. She lowered the gun.

Sherlock looked around, looking for the threatening person. Only after a while he noticed the gun in her hand, and understood what was happening.

"Oh god. Give me that." he said and pulled the gun out of her hand. She didn't resist. She was frozen. She thought she would never hear his voice again.

"Can you explain what the hell you were thinking?" he said with anger. And then all of the happy emotions she had felt faded, and the depression she felt before he came returned.

"You forgot." she said quietly, almost whispering.

"Forgot what?"

And then Sherlock realized. In the chaos of the last few months, he forgot about today's date.

April the 14th.

The anniversary of Aly's death.

No wonder she had become suicidal – she didn't expect to be alone in that day, after such a long time she had been with Mycroft. That alongside with her unstableness had caused to her nearly-suicide.

"Oh no. It's today. I'm so sorry." he frowned and said with a voice full of regret and sorry.

She looked up at his eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"She should have been the one to live now. Not me. She deserved this." Her voice broke when she said the word 'this'.

"No, don't say that. Hey…" he put two fingers under her chin so she had to look at him. He put his other hand on her cheek, and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "_You deserve to live_. You are the best person I have ever met. You're brilliant, kind, helpful, tolerant, friendly, and don't tell me I'm being subjective, because I am not. I'm just describing you what I saw in you in the moment we met. And let's not get started on how beautiful you are."

He lowered his face so they will be closer to hers. He lowered his voice as well.

"Every single second you live, you make the world a better place. Just by existing. Your life, _you_, are the most glorious thing I have ever got the luck to witness. So don't take them away from me. Is that clear? I love you, Dana. Don't ever do this again."

"Don't leave me then." she whispered, and Sherlock pulled her closer and hugged her tightly. And, when no one could see, he shed a tear. He was so afraid. He loved her so much.


	30. Chapter 30

She moved back in with them that night. The first thing she did when she saw John was to hug him. After a moment of surprise, he hugged her back. As soon as they got back to the flat, Sherlock sent her to take a shower and go to sleep, and he did the same. He wanted to end that day as fast as possible. In the morning the couple sat together on the sofa and John sat on a chair as she told them how she spent the time without them with Sherlock's arm wrapped around her.

"Well, it wasn't easy to find a flat. But Mycroft got involved, of course, and on the same day I had a place to stay in. it was small and dusty, but I didn't need anything more. I got myself a job as a waitress, but I got fired very quickly, for I had deduced something from one of the clients that caused a big fight. Then I found a job as a secretary in some company. I quitted it after my boss tried to start an office romance, which was apparently a common habit of his no one bothered warning me about. Then I worked as a secretary in Scotland Yard, and constantly helped him with his cases. I got no credit for it, of course, but I didn't care. I only did it to not get bored. But I quitted it as well about a week ago. I had a breakdown, and I couldn't keep going to work."

"What happened?" John asked in concern.

"I… I saw you meeting Mycroft in the street. After not seeing either of you for such a long time, it made me think of what I left behind when I left you." she said and looked down shyly, and Sherlock pulled her even closer to him. It felt so good, being so close to her again. But he was constantly worried about her now, after he had seen how fragile and unstable she really is. He started understanding why Mycroft was always so cautious around her.

"Well, let's not talk about it anymore. We shouldn't discuss the past." It took her a moment to think of a different subject to talk about. "So, John, any potential girlfriends in the near future?"

"Wha – I am _not_ discussing about my sex life with you!" John said with disbelief, and the couple laughed.

"He does have a reason to be embarrassed, though. The sociopath detective has a girlfriend, and he doesn't." she said and put her head on his shoulder. They hadn't kissed each other since she was back, but she was so close to him it was enough. Besides, he was afraid that she is still not ready for it, and seeking it would cause her to withdraw into herself again, and that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

That was how they had spent the next days – just like they did before, after she was released from the hospital. Always together, always very close and intimate, yet they never kissed. She became comfortable with him, like before, but their lips never met.


	31. Chapter 31

"I'm going out for a while. Having lunch with Mycroft. I haven't seen him for a long time as well." she said in the afternoon of one day.

"Alright darling, have fun. I'll be here. Haven't practiced the violin for a while now."

"Compose me something nice."

she said with a smile and left.

He, of course, took her request seriously. For two hours, all he did was to compose her 'something nice'. It took him a while, but he eventually made it. After those two hours, just as he set down on the sofa, Dana entered. She had a key now, so she didn't have to knock.

"Hello, darling."

"How was lunch?" he said and got up to her. She ignored him and walked to the window.

"Fine."

She was acting strange, but he thought Mycroft probably said something that upset her. There was a small bump in the lower back of her shirt with a familiar shape. It took him only a few seconds to recognize what it was, and just as he did, she pulled the gun out, turned to face him and pointed it at him. He was absolutely startled. Not only he had no idea where she got the gun, he was shocked by the situation itself.

"Surprised much?" she said with a teasing smile. And for a moment, she really seemed… bad. Even evil at some level. But then her hair covered one of her eyes, so she instinctively put it behind her ear. And that was when he saw something small and black in her ear.

"Hello, Moriarty."

"It's the earphone, isn't it? Shame, this could have been much more fun." she said in a sarcastically disappointed tone.

"I already know who you are. This whole 'using other voices' is getting old and useless."

"Useless? Oh, I wouldn't say that. Besides, who said I'm repeating his words? These could be my own words, and the earphone is just for general control." she smiled as if she is genuinely enjoying this, in some sadistic way.

Sherlock knew he is just trying to play with him, and he did his best to disconnect the words from the voice saying them. But he couldn't.

"Leave her alone." He said furiously and quietly.

She slowly walked closer to him. "No." she said in a loud whisper when she was less than a pace away from him, and then kissed him passionately. It was extremely hard for Sherlock to push her away from him, for he had missed that feeling so much, but he did. And she had such a satisfied look when he did.

"What happened, love? Don't love me as much now?" she asked teasingly, and then kissed him again, even more passionately. This time his body was stronger than his head. He kissed her back, as hard as he could. Her hands got under his coat, so he put his hands behind his back so it would be easier for her to take down his coat. His coat really did fell down, but then he felt something strange around his wrists, and his hands were tied. Dana pulled back from the kiss, smiling with satisfaction. Sherlock struggled against his bonds, but they were too strong for him to break free. She pushed the back of his knees with her feet, and he fell down to his knees. She pushed his shoulder, and he helplessly fell down. She bent down and tied his legs as well.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's _fun_." she said, still smiling. She whistled, and two men entered the flat. They picked him up, and no matter how hard he was struggling to make them drop him, they were stronger. They went outside and entered a car that already waited out, and Dana followed them.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a minute of driving.

"Well, if I tell you, it would ruin the surprise." she answered without looking at him.

After a few minutes, the car stopped. The men opened the door and carried Sherlock out, and Dana followed them. They entered a large building, which seemed to be an empty shed. They entered it, and it was all dark, except for a large circle of light. In it were Moriarty, and three chairs. On one of them sat John, on the other Mycroft, and the men put Sherlock on the third empty one. All men tied. All helpless. The men put gags in their mouths.

"You can take it off now." Moriarty said to Dana. Her look changed, and she looked extremely relieved as she pulled the earphone out, threw it to the ground and stepped on it. But after she finished, she looked at the four men in front of her, and her look turned into pure guilt.

"Thank you, Dana, for your kind help." Moriarty said with an exaggerated bow.

"You see, we ran into each other when she left the older Holmes brother here, and I told her that if she'll ever want to see him and her blogger friend again, she'll have to say exactly as I say, and make it _convincing._" Moriarty explained theatrically to the tied men, who looked at him with rage, and at her with remorse. They must have known how difficult it was for her.

"I think they're trying to ask why you wanted me to bring them here."

Moriarty pulled his eyebrows up with surprise.

"Did you not tell them?" he asked innocently, as the men looked at her with questions in their eyes. She looked at him with hatred.

"I suppose I will tell them myself then. You see, that night, when I came by to visit her, my man offered her a choice – she could either join me and become _my_ intern, or she could die. But clearly her life means nothing to her, as she gave up on them very quickly, so I decided to help her make the right choice this time. So what would it be, Dana Scott – your freedom, or their lives?"

She desperately looked at the men, and then at him, as if he would suddenly change his mind. All men shook their heads quickly, as they all knew what she would prefer to choose – their lives. Neither of them could let her go and work for him. Not only it would break her, it would also mean she'll have to leave them. The brothers preferred to die rather than to know she left to save them, and the doctor simply couldn't let her sacrifice herself like that.

"Hurry up. I don't have the whole day." Moriarty said impatiently.

"Well, I see you need a lesson or two in thinking quickly. How about an incentive?" he said and snapped his fingers. One of his men came to him, holding a gun.

"Let's reduce the number of Holmes's in this room. First to come, first to go." He said, and the man stood behind Mycroft and placed the gun behind his head. He started breathing heavily, and Sherlock fought his bonds again. Perhaps they weren't very close, but he would never let him die without fighting.

"No, no, wait! No, no, no, no, stop, no. Stop." She said hysterically and stretched her arms towards him. The man looked at Moriarty, and as he nodded, he put the gun away. Dana and Sherlock breathed out in relief.

"So, what is it? You or them?"

She looked at them helplessly again.

"Sherlock? Are you in there?" said a familiar rough voice.

"What? What is he doing here?" Moriarty asked her furiously and the man pointed the gun to Mycroft's head again.

"No, wait, I didn't tell him a word!" she said hysterically again.

"I'm going in!" Lestrade said, and some men busted the door open. They all turned to look at them, but when they turned back, Moriarty and his men were already gone.

"Alright, Miss, you're under arrest." He said and handcuffed her.

"Wait, _me_?! What for?!" she asked in shock.

"Kidnap of three, obviously."

"What – that wasn't me!" she said as the other men freed Sherlock, John and Mycroft.

"Well, I don't see anyone else in here." Lestrade said and looked around.

A man went over to Dana and pulled her arm in order to take her out. She struggled and kicked him, so he pulled out his electric shocker and shocked her. She fell unconscious to the floor. Sherlock, who was now free, walked quickly to the man who shocked her and hit him. As soon as Mycroft was free as well, he quickly went to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his from his back so he would stop beating the man.

"Let me go." he said in rage, yet quietly.

"No. As tempting as it might be, beating this man is _not_ the solution."

After a few moments, Sherlock calmed down, and John was finally freed as well. They all stood there and look at the officers carry Dana out.

"What do you think she would have chosen? I mean, if Lestrade hadn't come." John asked.

"To her, there was only one considerable option. It only took her so long to decide because she knew both choices would cause separating from us all." Mycroft said in concern, and Sherlock frowned.

"Are you coming? We need your testimony." Lestrade called out, and the three men walked in silence to him.


	32. Chapter 32

"I hate policemen. I really do." she said angrily as she finally entered the flat. The three men waited there for her.

"Why did they let you go?" John asked, and as the brothers looked at him angrily, he added: "I'm glad you're back and everything, of course, but they seem pretty certain you were the one to… Kidnap us."

"Well, after I've argued with Donovan for ages she asked Anderson to replace her, and after I've irritated him as much as I could, they brought a polygraph, and as the results showed that I'm telling the truth, I simply got up and left. Not before informing Lestrade about the affair the two are having, of course."

Sherlock laughed and got up to kiss her. The whole play Moriarty out on had surprisingly made her stronger, and she was herself once more, as if she had never left.

Mycroft, on the other hand, didn't share his brother's feelings. He was concerned about the ease it was to capture him. All it took was a distraction – and by meeting her for lunch he arranged one for himself. He had always thought he was strong, that he was above all of that, but this had showed him how vulnerable he had become for a girl who was no longer his, and he did not like it.

Sherlock scratched his hand, a bit hyper, and looked around nervously.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she asked.

"Before you've arrived we decided he needs to stop with the cigarettes." John explained.

"Yeah, stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" he asked.

"Yours." Mycroft said with a small humourless smile. Dana laughed.

"I'll keep your mind of it." she smiled and kissed him gently. Sherlock wasn't satisfied with one kiss: he kissed her again and again, for he had missed her so much for so long.

"Well," Mycroft said and cleared his throat awkwardly, "I think I'll be off now." he got up from his seat.

"Alright. Bye, Mycroft." she said. He smiled joylessly and walked to the door.

"Mycroft!" she called to him just before he left. He turned to her.

"I'm sorry."

After a few seconds, he answered.

"Not as much as I am. For what you had to do." he said and left, and Dana's face became a bit darker. John didn't understand why, but Sherlock remembered, of course. These were the exact same words they said to each other when they broke up. Except for the last part of his sentence. Sherlock knew she had loved him, but there was still an unsolved feeling between them.

"Didn't you say something about distracting me?" he asked her with a questioning face, and as she laughed he joined her laughter.

"I think you'll do fine on your own." John said and sighed, but the couple was too busy in kissing instead of listening to him. It was still strange to him to see him in such a close relationship with someone.

"I'm leaving." he said again, trying to win some of their attention, but failed to receive any.

"Bye." he said and then officially left, as they continued to ignore him.

"Finally, some privacy." he murmured to her and smiled.

"I have an idea for what we can do now. Come on, try to deduce it out of me." she said playfully. After a moment she asked: "Any ideas?"

"Just one." He said quietly, and surprisingly picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.


	33. Chapter 33

"John, I need some. _Get me_ some."

"No." he answered calmly.

"Get me some." he said again, this time more intensely.

"No. Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what." he answered louder and pointed sternly at him.

"Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius will sell you any."

Sherlock ignored him and started hurling paperwork off the table as he desperately searched for what he needs.

"Dana!" he called out.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now." "Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." Sherlock said frantically as he continued his search.

"Please." he asked again, with a begging look and a low voice.

"What's going on?" Dana asked as she came. She was wearing one of his shirts again, and John tried hard not to think about its meaning.

"He's out for the cigarettes again." John said tiredly.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." he said, ignoring her.

John chuckled.

"Oh, it was worth a try." Sherlock said exasperated. Then he noticed Dana's presence in the room.

"I'll tell you what film always makes Mycroft cry." he said to her desperately.

"He _cried_?!" she asked in surprise.

"Every single time."

"God, I do not want to know that. She's _not_ telling you where it is, anyway."

Sherlock sighed angrily.

"I need a case!" he shouted frantically and sat heavily on the chair.

"You've just solved one!" John answered, equally loudly.

"That was this morning!"

"Wait, what? For how long have you been awake?" she asked irritated. Since they became officially together, he hadn't led her participate in his work anymore.

"Oh, for a while now, didn't want to wake you up." he said dismissingly.

"Well, you should have." she still sounded irritated.

"Nothing on the website?" John changed the subject."

Sherlock got up and walked over to the table, collected his laptop and handed it to John, who looked at the message on there while Sherlock stomped over the window and narrated part of it.

"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?"

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit, John!"

"Oh."

"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous," he said sarcastically and adopted a little girl's voice for the next words, "'like a fairy' according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry..."

He stopped and his expression became more intense.

"Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?" she asked in shock.

"It's this, or Cluedo." he said, clearly referring to John

"Ah, no!"

He closed the laptop and got up to put it back on the table.

"We are never playing that again!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."

"Well, it was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules." He said and sat down again.

"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock answered furiously.

The doorbell rang.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

"Client." the men said simultaneously.


	34. Chapter 34

"So you are going?" asked Henry Knight in confusion.

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Sherlock answered in excitement.

"Sounds promising. When are we leaving?" Dana asked.

"_We_ are leaving in a moment. _You_, on the other hand, are staying here."

"Wait, _what_?!" she asked in surprise and anger. "Of course I am going, you're not my boss."

"But I am. You're my intern, remember? And you could always quit, but if you do, it would be very inappropriate if you'll take part in future inquiries."

Dana looked at him with disbelief. He had been to over-protecting since she was back, just like Mycroft. She sighed.

"Fine. Go ahead. In one condition."

"And what is that condition?" Sherlock asked with a teasing smile.

"We're playing Cluedo when you're back." she answered, equally smiling.


	35. Chapter 35

"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since nineteen eighty-two. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact." Lestrade said at the press conference. Sherlock, John and Dana stood nearby.

"Sarcasm."

"Yes."

"That is very mature of him." she said to them, equally sarcastic.

As the press applauded, Greg walked over to Sherlock and gave him a gift-wrapped package, smiling cheerfully.

"We all chipped in." he said.

Sherlock tore the paper and pulled out a deerstalking hat.

"Oh!" he said, trying to smile.

"Put the hat on!" said a few journalists.

"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Lestrade said amused.

Glowering at him, Sherlock shoved the wrapping paper into John's, then unhappily put the hat on his head. Flashbulbs went mad and everyone applauded. He heard Dana's laughter, and found out a way to make the situation a bit more fun.

"Well, I couldn't have done this without my girlfriend, of course." he said and put his arm around Dana and brought her more forward on the stage, while she had a very surprised look. "She deserves this gift more than I do." He said cheerfully, and he took of the hat and put it on her head. Everyone applauded again, and countless pictures were taken, as Dana faked a smile and constantly whispered threats to Sherlock, whose smile grew bigger with every word that she said. John rolled his eyes behind them. He knew the fame would only hurt Sherlock, but he couldn't get him to see it as well.


	36. Chapter 36

John stared at his best friend's body, as people carried it away. He fell to his knees. He wanted to be alone, to mourn. Or to cry. Or best - find out that somehow, Sherlock is still breathing, his heart still beating.

He just couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

He was too shocked and overwhelmed by every single emotion he could have sensed, he had completely forgotten he wasn't the only one Sherlock had left behind. And that other person knew how to track down his phone, since he wasn't answering it.

He heard a car door being slammed.

"John! Is everything alright? Why are you sitting down like that?" her voice called from a distance. He could hear her quick steps getting closer and closer, but he was too weak to get up.

"John, what is this? Is this… _blood_?!" she finally understood and ran to him.

"John, are you ok –" she asked, and then she saw what he was looking at.

She screamed. It wasn't a regular scared scream, but it was a sad one, as sad as it could get. It was full of grief, sorrow and agony. All the people around the body turned to look at her, but she didn't even notice their presence. Two people, a man and a woman, or two men, she hadn't quite noticed, caught her and held her so she won't get to near to him. She shook them away, without removing her gaze from Sherlock, and ran to him. She bent down beside him, and her hand was shaking as she touched his cheek. John put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, but she didn't seem to feel it. In fact, she didn't move. Not a bit. Just stared at Sherlock lying still on the ground, with her hand on his bloody cheek.

"Dana?" he asked quietly, and as he thought, she didn't response.

"Dana? Dana, listen to me." He said more loudly, but she still didn't move. People lifted his body and put it on a stretcher, and her hand moved with it as if it was attached to him.

"Dana. Dana!" he was shouting now, but she didn't even blink. The people started lifting the stretcher, and she didn't remove her hand. She was in some sort of a trance, and she didn't seem to be aware of what was going on.

"Dana, _listen to me!_" he shouted even louder, and he pulled her hand away from his cheek. Her gaze moved to his face, but it was still different. There was still something strange about it. Sherlock used to say, and it hurt John deeply to use the word 'said', that people see instead of observe. And she was doing neither. Her eyes were in front of him, but they didn't really see. John kept talking to her, but she didn't seem to notice he was. John desperately held her hands in his and pressed them, and she didn't react.

This was her official breakdown.

The last straw that led all of her sanity drift away, and all she had left was her madness.

No way to express her feeling,

And no one to share them with.


End file.
